


A Stiles By Any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet

by jaicubed



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M, M/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaicubed/pseuds/jaicubed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a full moon in March during their senior year of college, Scott discovers that Stiles smells...different. In which wolves know things, human females are cryptic bitches, and Scott McCall is a complete dumbass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Scott dropped his duffle bag on the floor, kicked the door closed with his foot, and flopped on the couch with a heavy sigh.

“Long ride, bro?” Boyd asked, eyeing Scott for a second before going back to his video game.

“Like, a million years long,” Scott groaned, burying his head in a throw pillow. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

“No one’s holding a gun to your head to make you come home every weekend,” Boyd responded, rolling his eyes at Scott’s melodramatics.

“And now that your mom is banging the sheriff, she’d probably appreciate a little alone time anyways,” Erica added helpfully as she entered the room, flopping down next to Boyd on the couch with a plate of Bagel Bites on her lap.

“Ugh, please stop,” Scott complained, miming vomiting. 

“Just speaking the truth,” Erica shrugged.

To be honest, Scott had no idea why he came back to Beacon Hills so often. He was a senior at a great college with a cool job on campus as a lab assistant. He had an awesome apartment to himself in a great neighborhood with lots of things to do, and killing supernatural creatures thankfully was not one of them. His mom was happy with the sheriff and not missing Scott so much (but that may have been because they still talked approximately five times a day), and with Derek in control of the Pack again, his duties to the rest of the wolves were minimal.

The wolves smelled Lydia and Allison a full minute before they came barreling through the door to Derek’s apartment, and still they all jumped at Allison’s shriek of delight.

“Scott! You’re home!” she said, running to the couch and tackling him. Boyd and Erica made annoyed noises as they readjusted themselves to allow the huntress on the couch. 

“He’s always home,” Lydia said under her breath, and Scott scowled at her. She ignored him.

“We saw your car pull in to the parking lot,” Allison explained. “Why are you home? You came back last weekend.”

There it was, that question again. As the pack member who lived the furthest away, he guessed it was a legitimate one. Lydia had managed to graduate in three years and was taking a break in Beacon Hills, and was currently waiting to hear if she had been accepted into one of the several PhD programs to which she had applied. Allison had decided to skip college altogether to start her own archery training gym under Derek’s sponsorship. The other wolves were attending community college or working, and Derek was, you know, being Derek.

Stiles was the only one who lived far away, and even he was a mere hour from Beacon Hills, as opposed to Scott’s four. 

“Because he wants to ruin my life. Now would you please get your paws off my girlfriend?” Lydia demanded, pulling Allison by the jacket off the couch.

“Old habits die hard,” Scott winked, and Lydia rolled her eyes. Although Lydia and Allison had been together for three years with Scott and Allison transitioning seamlessly into their new relationship as just friends, Scott couldn’t resist riling Lydia up. She was just too damn easy to tease.

“Anyway, we thought you’d be interested to know that Stiles is currently in our apartment, terrorizing my poor Hyacinth. Come collect him,” Lydia said, hands on her hips. Hyacinth was Lydia’s Persian cat, and as Derek had a strict “no pets” rule, Stiles had to get his animal fix where he could.

“Alright, let me go put my stuff in the bedroom first,” Scott conceded. He hopped off the couch and picked up his duffle before heading to the spare bedroom that he and/or Stiles shared when they came back from school and didn’t want to have to walk into anything untoward in their own homes. He was a pace from the door when he smelled it.

The scent was strong, but not unpleasant. Quite the contrary, actually. It was probably one of the best things that Scott had ever smelled. He entered the bedroom and dropped his stuff on the bed not containing the organized chaos that was Stiles’ shit. He sniffed the air again, and the scent was still there, a bit stronger even, floating atop the competing scents of Stiles and himself, the minor ones of the other wolves and the cleaning leady who came once a week.

He couldn’t identify the scent, nor pinpoint exactly why it was so good. It just was.

It definitely wasn’t hostile, though, so Scott shrugged and had forgotten about it by the time he had stolen a Bagel Bite from Erica and clambered up the stairs to the apartment Allison and Lydia shared above Derek’s.

He burst through the door, more excited than…well, than last weekend when he had done the same exact thing. Hyacinth yelped and ran under the couch.

“Dude, do you have to be such a fucking bull in a china shop? Hyacinth and I were making real progress,” Stiles complained. He was on his hands and knees on the floor, a toy mouse in one hand and a cat treat in the other.

“Nice to see you too,” Scott replied, dropping on the floor beside his best friend.

Stiles harrumphed and crawled a few feet towards the couch, proffering a treat to the cat underneath. “C’mere, Hyacinth, I know he’s a big ugly dog but he’s harmless, I swear.”

Scott rolled his eyes and fell back on the floor, rolling over slightly to the place Stiles had just vacated. He was about to goad Stiles into non cat-related conversation when he sniffed the carpet. 

“That’s weird,” Scott murmured to himself, not noticing when Stiles turned to look at him.

“Yeah, you’re sniffing a carpet. That’s pretty weird, man,” Stiles agreed, giving Scott a strange look. “You know, I was only joking when I called you a big ugly dog.”

Scott ignored the jibe and sniffed again. “No, it’s just…this scent. I smelled it in the bedroom earlier. I can’t place it.”

Stiles was intrigued enough to drop the mouse and turn fully to face his best friend. Hyacinth skidded out from beneath the couch and grabbed the mouse before hurtling towards Lydia and Allison’s room.

“So, it doesn’t smell like anything?” Stiles asked, putting his head down and giving the carpet a cursory sniff. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Duh, you wouldn’t. Werewolf powers here,” Scott said, pointing to himself. “It doesn’t smell like anything I’ve smelled before. It…”

Scott leaned towards Stiles and sniffed his hoodie, and Stiles leaned back, affronted.

“There it is again! Sort of like, floating on top of your regular scent,” Scott explained. “Dude, did you get a new cologne or something? Your stuff reeked of it.”  
“Scott, when have I ever, in the 20 years we have known each other, worn cologne?” Stiles scoffed. “Please.”

“Well, did you like, switch deodorants or something?” Scott asked, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“No, Scott. Same old one I’ve been using since seventh grade the day you said I smelled like a homeless man after gym class,” Stiles replied. “Can we please stop talking about my personal hygiene products? Obviously your werewolf shit is all out of sync. I know lots of new scents can confuse big dogs like you.”

“Yeah, yeah, haha,” Scott replied. “Whatever, you’re probably right. So man, what’s up?”

The two friends chatted on the living room floor until Lydia and Allison came back and the former unceremoniously threw them out of the apartment.

In their absence Erica and Boyd had retreated to their own apartment across town, and Derek had returned, looking with intense hatred at the dirty plate on the coffee table that had once held Erica’s Bagel Bites.

“How many times do I have to tell you people to clean up after yourselves?” Derek growled, picking up the plate and stomping into the kitchen.

“Dude, you lived in a burned out death trap for, like, three years. Chill out,” Stiles said, walking to Derek and cuffing him on the shoulder. “Besides, if we get mice, you’ll have something to snack on so you don’t get grumpy.” 

Scott snorted and gave Stiles a high-five while Derek glared at them.

“What are you two doing here, anyway?” Derek asked. He looked at Scott. “You just came back last weekend for the full moon. I shouldn’t see you again for another three weeks.”

“Wow, love you too, Derbear,” Scott said, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter. He took a big bite out of it as he ignored Derek’s shocked look. “I don’t know, just felt like coming back. Hey, does Stiles smell weird to you?”

“Way to be direct, Scotty,” Stiles said with a huff.

“What do you mean, weird?” Derek asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Like, I don’t know, I’ve been smelling…something, on top of the other scents. It was all over Stiles’ stuff in the bedroom, and then I smelled it again when we were in Allison and Lydia’s apartment,” Scott replied. “Obviously Allison and Lydia wouldn’t have noticed anything. Do you?”

Derek’s eyes were still narrowed as walked around the island in the kitchen. Stiles looked slightly terrified as Derek leaned forward and took a big whiff right by Stiles’ exposed throat. 

“He smells the same as he always does,” Derek said when to Stiles’ relief Derek stepped back into his own personal space.

“So you don’t notice anything weird?”

“No, Scott. Nothing weird,” Derek answered. His eyes turned slightly red.

“If you’re trying to tell me you two stepped in some poppy field or accidentally tipped over a potion or something equally stupid, please tell me now before something supernatural ruins my Friday night.”

“No, no, no,” Scott said quickly. “Nothing supernatural. I guess my werewolf sense are out of sync, or something. That’s a thing, right?”

“No,” Derek said bluntly. He turned to wash the offending dish in the sink. “Oh, Scott? Stiles?”

“Yeah, man?” they answered in unison.

“Get out of my house.”

***

Sensing that the alpha needed some alone time, Stiles and Scott decided to head over to the Stilinskis’ to grab some stuff that Stiles wanted to take back to school. The longer he spent with Stiles, the more the scent sort of drifted to the back of his awareness, and soon he had forgotten about it again.

“Dude,” Stiles sighed as he flopped down on his bed, shoving his face into his pillow. “It’s so good to be home.”

Scott collapsed in the chair at Stiles’ desk. The Stilinski house had been his second home, and he felt immediately at ease. The friends chilled in companionable silence until Stiles rolled off the bed and reached for his own duffle.

“Might as well do some laundry while I’m here,” Stiles said, zipping open the bag. “Derek gets so weird about other people’s clothes touching his.”

“He’s probably blacks won’t be as black if they mix with colors,” Scott quipped, and Stiles grinned at him.

Stiles removed t-shirts and pants one by one, and Scott remarked on each, describing what Stiles must have eaten or done the day he had worn them from their scent. It was all in good fun, until Stiles pulled out a wrinkled pair of boxers.

“Dude,” Scott said, almost falling back in his chair.

“Oh, like your boxers smell like fucking roses,” Stiles defended, although a slight blush colored his cheeks.

“No, man…that scent. It’s there, again, in the boxers. Like, really fucking strong. Did you change your brand of underwear, or something?”

“Dude, you’ve seen me wear these before,” Stiles said, exasperated, holding up the undergarments so Scott could fully appreciate the Playboy bunny logos decorating them. 

“Oh…yeah,” Scott chuckled weakly.

“Maybe you should go see Deaton or something, man,” Stiles said, standing up and emptying the rest of his duffle into the laundry basket he had been using. He walked over to Scott and put a hand on his face.

“Although, your nose is wet, so you’re probably not sick,” Stiles said, picking up the laundry basket and walking out the door as Scott threw a pen at his head.

The rest of the weekend was uneventful but pleasurable. Melissa and the sheriff were thrilled to see the boys, of course, and Stiles and Scott barely spent any time at Derek’s except to sleep. They studied, played video games, and just chilled, and after lunch with the pack on Sunday they hopped into their respective cars and made the drive back to their campuses. 

***

Scott and Stiles were both busy with school, work, and hanging with friends during the week, but they always set aside Wednesdays at 8pm sharp for a Skype chat. It wasn’t like they didn’t text every minute of the day, or call laughing when something random or stupid happened, but sometimes you just wanted to see your bro’s face, you know?

“Dude,” Stiles said as soon as his face appeared on Scott’s MacBook. “You would not believe the concert I went to last night. It was fucking awesome.”

“Yeah?” Scott said. For once they hadn’t texted much that day, and he learned that it was because Stiles had been nursing a wicked hangover from Tuesday night’s festivities.

“And,” Stiles said, finishing up his story, “this total babe gave me her number.” He waggled his eyebrows. 

“Bullshit,” Scott replied, trying to smile but sort of grimacing at the weird feeling he suddenly felt in his gut.

“Scott? You feeling okay?” Stiles asked. He may not have werewolf powers, but Stiles was a keen observer, especially when it came to Scott.

“Yeah, yeah, just had a cramp or something,” Scott said. “So, you got a girl’s number, huh? You gonna call her?”

“Nah, I was so drunk when she gave it to me, I don’t even remember her name. Would be super awkward,” Stiles replied, leaning back in his desk chair and stretching. Scott was suddenly mesmerized by the patch of skin revealed when Stiles’ shirt rode up, so much so that he didn’t notice his cell ringing for an embarrassingly long time.

“Dude, are you going to get that?” Stiles asked, giving Scott a strange look. 

Scott shook his head and grabbed his phone, where Allison’s face was smiling at him from the screen.

“It’s Allison,” Scott said, his brow furrowed. “She knows we Skype at this time, so she wouldn’t have called unless it was important. I better get this.”

Just as Stiles was about to reply his own phone rang, and he grinned as he held up the screen to his computer so Scott could see. “Lydia’s calling. Sayonara, buddy.” The Skype chat ended abruptly, and Scott laughed to himself. After all of these years, Lydia still had Stiles wrapped around her finger.

“Hey, what’s up?” Scott asked when he answered.

“Lydia got into MIT!” Allison squealed, so loud that Scott had to remove the phone several inches from his ear.

“Really? Wow, that’s great!” Scott replied, genuinely happy for the redhead. “Tell Lydia I said congratulations. When she gets off the phone with Stiles, that is.”

“I will,” Allison said excitedly. “She got funding and everything, and will be working with this really famous physicist on his next project. She explained it to me, but you know, science,” Allison said, laughing. 

“They really weren’t supposed to tell people about their acceptances for a couple of weeks, but he was so impressed with Lydia and all the stuff she’s been doing online during her break that he called her up to invite her to his lab himself.”

“That’s really awesome, truly,” Scott replied, and he knew Allison could see the grin he was sporting through the phone. 

“So anyways, I promised Lydia that if she got into MIT I would throw her a party, so you have to come home this weekend. I know you just came home last weekend but you have to come again. Please please please?” Allison pleaded.

“Yeah, of course, of course. Actually, I was planning on going back anyway,” Scott admitted.

“Good, because it’s really important. Lydia has no idea what kind of shindig I’m planning,” Allison revealed.

“Let me know if you need any help,” Scott said. He felt light and happy, knowing he was going to be having some quality time with his friends in only a couple of days.

“I will. But, how are you? We didn’t get to talk much this past weekend. I was worried about you coming home two weekends in a row. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. School’s going great, making good progress on my capstone project, and work is great too. I don’t know…just want to be home, I guess,” Scott said. Just like last weekend, he had no idea why he felt like he had to be home. He just did.

“Alright. You’ll call me if you need to talk, right? You know you can always call me,” Allison said.

“Yeah, I know,” Scott said. He had moved past his romantic feelings for Allison long ago, but he still felt warmed at her words. 

“Okay. See you Friday! Love you.”

“Love you too,” Scott replied before hanging up.

A few seconds later his phone beeped and a text from Stiles popped up.

C u Friday?

He grinned. 

U know it.

***

“Yeah, I’m about an hour away,” Scott said, leaning against his car at a rest stop. “Was going to push on through until Beacon Hills, but nature calls, you know?”

“Just be careful, sweetie, alright?” Melissa said, and he could hear the other nurses chattering in the background. “Allison invited us to Lydia’s party tonight, so I’ll see you then, okay?”

“Us?” Scott asked, although he had a pretty good idea of what his mom was driving at.

“I meant myself and the sheriff,” Melissa answered, and Scott knew his mom well enough to know she was blushing.

“Oh, you guys are an ‘us’ now, huh?” Scott teased.

“Don’t disrespect your mother,” Melissa said, with no real heat. “See you in a couple of hours. Love you. Drive safe.”  
“Love you too. I will.”

Scott arrived in Beacon Hills on time and went to his own house, dropping his stuff off and cleaning up a bit for his mom. They had all decided to just meet at the party, so around an hour before the party at 8 he hopped in the shower. He felt giddy, and sort of nervous, but he just chalked it up to the excitement of seeing his friends and celebrating Lydia’s achievement.

Allison truly had outdone herself. She had reserved the entire seating area of Lydia’s favorite fancy Italian restaurant and decorated with fresh flowers. It was classy and understated, just like the PhD candidate herself.

There were several people already there when Scott arrived, including his mom and the sheriff, and he hugged them and nodded to Derek, Erica and Boyd who were standing by the bar, and then went to the table where Lydia was holding court, a huge smile on her face. Allison was beaming at her, and Scott was glad that Allison had found someone she loved so much.

“Congratulations, Lydia,” he said with a grin as he approached. He hugged the redhead and Allison before sitting down at the table. “Only full funding to MIT, though? I thought you’d have the Nobel Prize on lockdown by now.”

“All in due time,” Lydia said with a hair flip, and he laughed.

“Oh, I, uh, didn’t have much time to get you anything, and I’m sort of broke right now, but I thought you might like this,” Scott said, blushing slightly. He hated picking out gifts, and more than that, he hated wrapping them. He proffered a box to Lydia, who was too classy to comment on the newspaper wrapping.

“Oh, Scott, you didn’t have to get me anything! Driving four hours for me was enough,” Lydia said honestly. “Well, not just for me,” she added under her breath, and she squeaked when Allison elbowed her in the ribs. Scott had no idea what that was about.

“Open it!” Allison said, leaning over.

Lydia carefully unwrapped the newspaper and then took the lid off the white box underneath.

“Oh, Scott,” she breathed, her eyes beginning to tear up. “I love it.”

“It’s not much,” Scott said, uncomfortable as Allison started to tear up too.

“Stop it, it’s perfect,” Lydia said, taking the gift out of the box. Inside the simple silver frame was a photo he had taken at lunch the past Sunday and had a friend at school touch up. Allison and Lydia were sitting on the couch in Derek’s apartment, holding hands and looking at each other with bright smiles. Scott hadn’t planned on taking any photos, but he couldn’t pass up the moment between the two women.

“I didn’t even know you had taken this,” Lydia said. She stood up and hugged Scott again. “Thank you. This is a wonderful gift.”

“There’s a reason I kept him around as long as I did. He’s sort of diehard romantic,” Allison joked.

“I am not!” Scott protested, because he had his manhood to defend, after all. Lydia kissed him on the cheek.

“You’re so cute when you’re wrong,” Lydia said flippantly before sitting back down.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to grab a drink,” Scott said, wanting to give the two women time to themselves. He stood up, but stumbled on his way to the bar, almost falling completely over. It was as though a freight train of scent had crashed into his entire body, and he took a few gulps of air, bending over with his hands on his knees to steady himself. 

“Scott! What’s wrong?” his mother called out, running over to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…I think so,” Scott answered, shakily standing up. His head was swimming, and all he could focus on was the scent that seemed to be invading every pore of his body. It was the same scent from last week, only much stronger…and better, although he couldn’t articulate what made it better. 

“Oh, look, honey, Stiles is here,” Melissa said, rubbing his back and looking toward the door. The young Stilinski hurried toward his best friend, looking concerned. The closer Stiles got, the more Scott’s head swam.

“What happened?” Stiles asked Melissa, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Just had a little dizzy spell, I think. Why don’t you take him to a table and I’ll get him some water,” Melissa replied.

Stiles put a hand on Scott’s arm and sat him down in the nearest chair. Stiles’ hand burned through his sports jacket, although the scent was getting more tolerable. 

“You alright, buddy?” Stiles asked. When Scott nodded, Stiles began to remove his hand but stopped when a growl erupted unbidden from Scott’s mouth. Stiles looked at Scott with wide eyes.

“Just…just keep your hand there for a minute, okay?”

“You know, I’m a human, I don’t have crazy leeching healing powers,” Stiles said weakly, although he kept his hand firmly on Scott’s bicep.

Melissa arrived moments later with a glass of water. Scott accepted it and sipped it gingerly, and soon his breathing evened out and he felt relatively normal. He turned to Stiles to tell him he could take his hand off his arm and truly looked at his best friend for the first time since he had arrived.

Scott realized he must have been staring for a long time when his mother cleared her throat a little too loudly. It was just that, Stiles looked different. Not different like he had dyed his hair purple or gotten a nose job, just…different. 

“Did you cut your hair?” Scott asked Stiles, ignoring the weird look his mother was giving him.

“Uh, no?” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. “Why?”

“No reason,” Scott replied quickly, removing his arm from Stiles’ grip. “I, I think I’m okay now. Why don’t you go say hi to Lydia, Stiles? I’m going to go outside and get some fresh air.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, still looking concerned.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Go ahead,” Scott said, attempting a smile.

Stiles still look unconvinced but he left, walking to Allison and Lydia who were looking at them curiously. Scott brushed off his mother’s offer of accompaniment before escaping out the door as fast as he could to the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.

He took a few deep breaths and tried to clear his mind. He had his eyes closed and was thinking of his favorite beach near school when he smelled Derek approaching.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked, and Scott opened his eyes to find Derek looking at him, for once not with annoyance.

“Aww, Derek, you care,” Scott said, failing to affect the joking manner he was going for.

“I care about all of my pack members,” Derek said seriously. He cocked his head. “What happened?”

“Oh, just a dizzy spell, nothing serious. I’m fine now,” Scott replied, avoiding Derek’s steady gaze.

“Has that ever happened to you before?” Derek asked.

“Oh, yeah, sometimes,” Scott lied, and he mentally slapped himself for trying to get a lie past Derek. Unsurprisingly, the alpha’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re lying,” Derek stated. “This has never happened before.”

“It’s no big deal,” Scott said. “Really. Sometimes a guy just gets dizzy, you know? Maybe I’m catching a cold or something.”

Derek looked at him like he was a complete idiot. Which he sort of was.

“Werewolves don’t get colds, Scott,” Derek said.

“First time for everything?” Scott tried.

Derek was unimpressed. “Tell me what happened, Scott.”

Scott sighed. “Look, it’s no big deal, alright? I didn’t spill any potions or go frolicking in a magical forest.”

“I’ll decide whether it’s a big deal or not. Tell me what happened.”

“You saw what happened. I stood up, I got dizzy, and then I calmed down. End of story,” Scott said, looking hard at Derek’s Camaro parked across the street.

“You’re lying again,” Derek growled, and Scott saw a flash of red in his eyes.

“Jesus, Derek, don’t go wolfing out in the middle of the street,” Scott hissed. He looked around. “Fine. I…I smelled that scent, that one from last weekend. It hit me like a ton of bricks. It was a lot stronger than last time.”

Derek searched Scott’s eyes and determined he was telling the truth. “And then what?”

“Christ, you were there…and then my mom asked if I was okay and brought me water and Stiles came over and sat with me and it got better. The end.” 

Derek’s gaze turned thoughtful. “And you had never encountered that scent before last weekend?”

“Never.”

Derek regarded Scott for a few more moments before humming low in his throat.

“What?” Scott asked, a little more harshly than he intended.

“Let’s go back inside,” Derek said, ignoring Scott’s question. “Lydia’s going to make a speech soon.”

***  
That night Scott laid in his bed in his own house, trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep. For the first time in his young life he had passed up an opportunity to party, leaving the rest of the pack to continue the celebration at Allison and Lydia’s apartment.

Everyone had thought Scott had been too thrown by Lydia’s announcement that she would be attending MIT and moving to Boston with Allison, who was selling the gym to another professional archer. Everyone knew Allison had been Scott’s anchor, after all, and that their bond ran deep. Either that, or they thought he was still recovering from his dizzy spell. Even Stiles had taken that explanation at face value, although he had been disappointed that Scott wouldn’t be joining them.

Only Erica, Boyd, and Derek seemed suspicious of Scott’s decision to go home. Well, maybe suspicious wasn’t the right word. Boyd had looked at him with this weird sympathetic face that made him look constipated, and Erica’s usual smirk had increased ten-fold, if that was even possible. Derek, whose repertoire of facial expressions was admittedly limited, had just continued to stare at him.

It was what Erica had said to him before he separated from the group that really was throwing him for a loop.

“It will get better,” Erica said, giving him a big smooch on the cheek. “I promise, Scotty boy.”

She didn’t let him respond as she sauntered away and let Boyd wrap his arm around her.

Scott was still trying to decode her cryptic statement when he finally fell asleep at 4am.

***

Scott woke up with a start at 10am on Saturday morning, his mother shouting his name. He could smell bacon and eggs cooking, and even barely conscious his stomach rumbled appreciatively.

He attempted to croak out something in response to his mother when a wave of heat rushed down his spine, straight to his cock. It was then that he noticed that he had, in fact, the world’s biggest boner. Scott was a pretty decent-sized guy on an average day, but today, his dick looked like that fucking bat Stiles always used to carry around.

Scott stared at his crotch in awe before being startled out of his reverie by his mother.

“Scott! Breakfast!”

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to breakfast with his mother in this state. 

“Just let me shower first!” Scott called down, scrambling out of bed and into his bathroom. Waves of heat were coursing through him, and he wasn’t just horny, he was fucking amped. He felt like he could run five marathons and play ten games of lacrosse and still have energy to spare.

He turned on the shower and jumped in and immediately got a hand on his cock. He groaned so loud on the first stroke that it made him praise the gods that his mother wasn’t a werewolf, because she definitely would have heard. 

It just felt so good. He squeezed his balls with one hand and pumped his dick with the other, swiping his thumb over the head. He was already sticky, and he looked down in amazement at the amount of precome that was already dribbling out of his cock. A few more pumps and he groaned again, his mind addled with pleasure. Jerking off had never felt this good. Fuck, sex had never felt this good. 

Another wave of heat rushed down his spine and he pumped faster, thrusting into his fist. A few minutes later and he came hard, shooting across the shower stall onto the wall. Not only was the orgasm the most intense of his life, but it was fucking long.

When he was sort of coherent again he opened bleary eyes, breathing heavily. 

“Fuck,” he gasped. He leaned under the spray, letting it soothe him while his body slowly recovered. The amount of come on the opposite wall was frankly terrifying. He looked down at his balls, expecting to see them shrunken and shriveled up, but they were even bigger, if that was possible.

Realizing that this shower was probably becoming suspiciously long, he quickly washed his hair and body and sprayed the come off the wall, watching it go down the shower drain with the sort of rapt fascination usually reserved for dogs watching squirrels outside the window. He toweled himself off and quickly dressed before taking the stairs two at a time and collapsing at the kitchen table, where his breakfast and cup of coffee sat steaming before him.

He ate, well, like a wolf, and his mother watched him in mild disgust as he chomped and fidgeted throughout the entire meal. 

“You’re full of energy today, aren’t you?” his mother observed with a raised eyebrow. “Guess you’re feeling better after your dizzy spell yesterday?”

“Oh yeah, much better,” Scott replied. And it was true. He had never felt so good in his life. He had had the best orgasm of his life, and he was keyed up and ready to take on anything that came at him. 

“Well, good, because Stiles was really worried about you. He said you didn’t respond to any of his texts last night,” Melissa said, taking a sip of her coffee. “He was so worried that he called us at the sheriff’s house to make sure you were okay at six this morning. I think he would have driven over himself if I hadn’t said I would come to check on you.”

The mention of Stiles’ name brought back memories of the party and Erica’s cryptic words. He hadn’t responded to any texts last night because he had turned his phone off, not wanting to be disturbed while he collected his thoughts. He should have known that Stiles would be worried.

“I think I’m gonna go for a run and burn off some of this energy,” Scott said, bringing his plate to the kitchen sink. “I’ll stop by Derek’s and see Stiles.”

“I think you should. And I’m working the night shift, so you’re on your own for dinner,” Melissa said. “You have money, right?”

“Yes, mom,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “I’m gonna go change into some shorts.” 

He barreled up the stairs before she could respond.

He stretched before breaking into a jog, and then a run, and he felt fantastic. The beginning of April was perfect in Beacon Hills. The sun was shining but it wasn’t too hot, and there was a warm breeze that ruffled Scott’s hair as he ran. He felt alive, his leg muscles were burning and his lungs were pumping, and he finally knew what they meant by a runner’s high. Even the sweat pouring down his forehead and making his underarms sticky felt good.

He ran all the way to Derek’s apartment, running five miles that clocked in at about thirty minutes, and then sprinted up the stairs to the second floor. Derek was waiting for him at the front door when he skidded to a stop. Derek took in his sweaty, flushed appearance and raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“Hey Derek, I’m just looking for-”

“Stiles isn’t here right now,” Derek cut him off. “He went into town.”  
“Oh,” Scott said, and he winced, a weird cramp twisting in his stomach. “Well…can I wait for him here?”

Derek shrugged and stepped aside to let Scott enter. “Don’t think about sitting on that couch until you shower,” Derek warned. “You stink.”

“But I ran here,” Scott whined. “I’ll just get sweaty again when I run back.”

“I’m sure Stiles will be more than happy to drive you,” Derek said. “It’ll probably make him feel good, considering he thought you had driven yourself into a ditch last night.”

“I guess he was really worried, huh,” Scott said. He was starting to feel kind of guilty.

“Go shower at Allison and Lydia’s,” Derek responded, apparently finished with the topic. “I’ll bring you some of my clothes.”

“What? Why?” Scott had showered at Derek’s thousands of times. “Is this like the laundry thing?”

“Just go,” Derek growled. 

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” Scott mumbled.

Lydia’s face was overly judgmental, in Scott’s opinion, when she opened the door to find him standing there with a sheepish smile.

“Derek told me to shower here,” he explained. “I think it’s like the laundry thing.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow but let him pass. Allison waved weakly from her spot on the couch, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bottle of aspirin in the other. 

“Hangover?” Scott asked with a grin.

“Obviously,” Allison said with a groan. Scott put a hand on her forehead and seconds later she was sighing contentedly. “I forgot you could do that.”

“Here to serve,” Scott replied, heading towards the bathroom.

Sure enough, there were a pair of black briefs, black socks, black jeans, and a black t-shirt sitting on the sink when Scott exited the shower. Scott hesitantly picked up the underwear, obviously clean but still heavy with Derek’s scent. He despaired, thinking this was probably the lowest point in his short life, but he reluctantly dressed and joined Allison and Lydia in the living room.

Allison snorted when she saw him. “Most guys have their goth phase in high school,” she said, looking at his outfit. “But maybe you’re just a late bloomer. You can borrow my eyeliner if you want.”

Scott gave her the finger. “It’s not my fault I have an anal-retentive, color-blind alpha.”

“Yeah, that’s weird,” Allison said. “I’m pretty sure Stiles showered down there last night. When he wasn’t obsessively checking his phone for your text, of course.”

“Ugh, stop making me feel guilty,” Scott groaned, flopping down next to the brunette. 

“He passed up Erica and Boyd’s sober- up run to Wendy’s because he was afraid he would miss you if you showed up,” Lydia added from her seat at the kitchen table.

Scott grimaced. Stiles must have been really worried to pass up curly fries.   
“I better go down and see if he’s back yet,” Scott sighed.

“Can’t you smell him?” Allison asked.

“All I can smell right now is Derek,” Scott said, and immediately regretted it. Lydia and Allison burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, he gave you underwear too, right? Are you going to be smelling alpha asscrack all day?” Allison chortled, nearly spilling her coffee on the couch.

“Fuck you guys,” Scott said venomously, but they were still laughing as he shut their apartment door behind him.

He flopped back down on Derek’s couch moments later, determining that Stiles was in fact not back yet. 

Derek didn’t acknowledge him, continuing to type on his computer.

“Seriously, dude, why’d you make me shower upstairs?” Scott asked when he couldn’t take the silence any longer.

Derek didn’t answer, only took a sip of his coffee and continued to type. Scott rolled his eyes and flipped on the TV. He was getting pretty engrossed in one of those daytime courtroom shows when, despite the Eau de Hale he was wearing, the scent (with a capital T-H-E) drifted pleasantly into his consciousness. It got stronger and stronger, and soon his head was swimming, but not as bad as it had been the night before.

Stiles barged into the apartment moments later, not noticing Scott but looking directly at Derek.

“Okay, I know this will disrupt your usual breakfast of grass and tree roots or whatever the fuck you eat, but you have to try one of these bear claws. They are seriously the best thing to happen to pastrydom since, well, ever.” Stiles shut the door with his foot and walked to Derek, taking a pastry out of the bag he was holding and holding it up to Derek’s face. 

“Look, it’s warm and everything. Eat it.”

Derek looked at the bear claw with distaste before nodding to Scott. “He might want it.”

Stiles looked over and jumped. “Jesus fucking Christ, Scott, how long have you been there? Ugh, it doesn’t matter. At least I know you’ll appreciate this.”

Stiles walked over to the couch and handed Scott the bear claw before abruptly pulling it away.

“What the fuck am I doing? I’m pissed at you. I should be giving you a knuckle sandwich, not a fucking bear claw,” Stiles said, his eyes narrowed.

“Stiles, I’m sorry. I turned my phone off last night. I just needed to think.” Scott looked at Stiles with his best puppy-dog eyes. It wasn’t hard, considering that the scent was slowly turning him to warm, gooey, contented wolf goo.

“Yeah, well, a guy gets worried when his best friend has a fainting spell and then doesn’t return your texts for twelve hours,” Stiles grumbled, although Scott could tell Stiles’ anger was dissipating. Stiles’ ADHD was too bad to hold a grudge for very long.

“I didn’t faint, I just got dizzy,” Scott protested. He snatched the bear claw out of Stiles’ hand and took a big bite. “Wow, this is really fucking good. Like, a frosted, slivered-almond covered orgasm.”

Stiles beamed. “I know, right?”

Stiles sat down beside Scott and devoured his own bear claw, and then another. Scott watched Stiles the entire time, the scent still hovering on top of Stiles’ natural one. Stiles still looked different, although Scott still couldn’t figure out what the fuck was different. His hair was the same, the same medium-length and sticking up weird and brown. He had no piercings or neck tattoos or a new mole to add to his collection.

“Dude, stop staring at me, it’s fucking weird,” Stiles said, wiping his face with his sleeve. “You did it all last night too. I thought you had stroked out or something.”

“I didn’t stare at you last night,” Scott said defensively, although honestly he couldn’t remember much of last night.

“Derek, he totally did, didn’t he?”

Derek harrumphed unhelpfully.

“Well, you totally did. What’s up with you anyway? Do we have to buy you a fainting couch or something?”

“I just got dizzy,” Scott said, ignoring Derek’s eyes from across the room. “Can we stop talking about it? It’s over, I’m fine.”

That wasn’t really true. His head was still swimming a little and he was getting keyed up again, his leg jiggling a million miles an hour. He jumped up off the couch and started pacing the living room. “Let’s go do something.”

“Dude, I have a thesis to write,” Stiles said, looking at Scott strangely. He looked at Derek. “Is ADHD contagious? Because this kid is hyped as fuck.”

“C’mon, let’s go bowl or shoot some hoops or something,” Scott whined. 

“I can’t man, my thesis is due in like three weeks. And don’t you have a capstone thing to work on? Let’s just work for awhile and then we can do something.” 

“I think that’s a good idea,” Derek chimed in. “I’ll drive you home, Scott. Then you can come back in the evening once you’ve gotten some work done.”

“Why can’t I work here with Stiles?” Scott whined. The thought of sitting around was like torture, but for some reason the thought of not hanging with Stiles was even worse.

“Because you’re annoying,” Derek replied, and Stiles snorted. “Go downstairs and wait for me.”

“But-”

“Go.”

Cowed, Scott slumped his shoulders. “I guess I’ll see you later, man.”

“Work through the pain, bro. I know I will,” Stiles replied, hopping off the couch. He leaned in to give Scott a hug, but Derek grabbed Scott by the collar and was pulling him towards the door.

“I’ll be back soon, Stiles. Don’t break anything.”

“Aye aye captain!” Stiles saluted.


	2. Chapter 2

It was about 7:30, and Scott was bouncing off the walls. Derek had driven him home, characteristically silent the entire way, and sped off without so much as a goodbye.

Scott had actually managed to get a couple of hours of work in, spurred on by encouraging texts of solidarity from Stiles. When he couldn’t stand his desk anymore, he threw Derek’s clothes into the wash and had another brilliant orgasm while taking his third shower of the day. He ate lunch, threw Derek’s clothes in the dryer, and jerked off again on his bed, legs splayed and comfortable alone and naked in his own house-- frankly, the only good way to jerk off. He nodded off, finally wiped out.

He dreamed about Stiles. That wasn’t the weird part- he dreamed about Stiles all the time. What was really weird about the dream was that Stiles, was, well, pregnant. Like, ready-to-pop-any-second pregnant. And in fact, he did just that in Scott’s dream, although Scott was later thankful his subconscious had spared him the actual birth.

What struck Scott in the dream was remarkably normal- not how did you give birth with a dick, or, why did you give birth to a cat that looks exactly like Hyacinth- but how Stiles looked so happy, his cheeks flushed and his eyes shining, Hyacinth’s identical twin cradled in his arms. When dream Stiles looked up at dream Scott, dream Scott was gob smacked. Dream Scott vaguely recalled that real-life Scott had thought Stiles had looked different, and dream Scott decided that dream Stiles was beautiful. 

After ordering pizza, Scott tried not to think about his dream and focus on how mind-bendingly drunk he was going to get that night when they all went out to Jungle. He knew that was unrealistic, werewolf metabolism being what it was and Jungle’s drink prices being what they were, but a man could dream, right?

He ate, put Derek’s clothes in a bag, and took his fourth shower of the day. He dressed with the indifference that comes with being a straight man in a gay club and sat on the couch, waiting to be picked up.

It seemed like he waited for an eternity. His leg started to jiggle again and his energy crept up in small increments until he was pacing his own living room. He texted Stiles so many times that Stiles declared a moratorium on texting for the rest of the evening. He almost cried with relief when he heard the Jeep pull into his driveway while he was sweeping the kitchen floor vigorously.

Two seconds later Stiles burst through the door. “We’re fucking here, gosh, don’t get your alpha’s panties in a twist.”

Thanks Allison and Lydia, Scott thought bitterly before turning around.

Scott had to literally pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t in his dream again, because there he was, in his kitchen, gob smacked. Stiles had the same shining eyes and flushed cheeks and mussed hair. Real-life Scott was much worse off, though, because the scent was mixed in with all the face and the hair and the ugh, Scott felt really weird.

“Dude, you’re staring again. C’mon, we’re pre-gaming at Erica and Boyd’s before we go to the club,” Stiles said, tapping his foot. 

“Right! Yes, I’m coming,” Scott said, dropping the broom on the floor and gathering his stuff. He was locking the door when Stiles beeped the Jeep’s horn. 

Scott scrambled into the back seat, Derek slouched in shotgun. Apparently alpha trumped best friend when it came to the most important seat in the house. Scott could deal, though, because he was having trouble getting past “Stiles” and “pregnant” and the scent was lingering on Stiles’ too-tight jeans and button-down. 

Wait a minute-why was Derek even here? Derek hated people, and clubs had people- lots of them, in close proximity, doing things that Derek hated, like drinking and dancing and public groping. Scott said as much, leaning between the two front seats.

“I’m the designated driver,” Derek answered, the “duh” unsaid but implied.

“Why didn’t you just drop us off and pick us up, then?” Scott queried. “Makes more sense than spending hours at a club that you’ll hate.”

“Because I’m not your chauffeur,” Derek growled.

“Dude, that’s not what you told me,” Stiles said, turning to look at Derek and then at Scott. “Derek said the only way I could go tonight was if he came along.”

“What? Why?” Scott asked. “How could he do that anyway? Strap you down so you couldn’t leave the apartment?”

“Um, no, but thanks for going there, Kinky. He hid my fucking car keys. And he did the eye thing. That still freaks me out, man.” Stiles thumped along to the dubstep booming from the Jeeps speakers. “He still won’t tell me why, besides this designated driver bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Derek said in a low voice. “If all of you get into a wreck, you’d be dead and they’d all live.“ 

Derek made eye contact with Scott in the rear-view mirror. “It’s my responsibility to protect pack members.” 

What the fuck was he looking at him for? Scott really didn’t get this guy sometimes.

The rest of the drive was drowned in Stiles’ music and the scent, and Scott and Stiles were pumped by the time they crashed through Erica and Boyd’s door, Derek following behind.

“Ah, I though you’d be joining us tonight, sour wolf,” Erica said, a bottle of vodka in one hand. She put an arm around Derek’s neck. “Your judgment is spot on, as usual. Boyd and I would make pretty shitty chaperones.”

“And with Allison and Lydia being homebodies, you’re pretty much it,” Boyd agreed, offering Derek a cup of club soda.

“It’s because I’m human, isn’t it?” Stiles cried from his place behind the bar, where he was preparing to mix himself a rum and Coke. “I’ve saved all of your asses a hundred times over, I don’t need a goddamn chaperone.”

“It’s not because you’re human, sweetie,” Erica said, taking a swig from her bottle. “It’s because you’re you.”

“What does that even mean?” Stiles asked, taking a shot of rum before pouring another into his Coke.

“Not to worry dear, not to worry.”

Scott, Erica, and Boyd drank like fish, and Stiles looked on with longing as he had to pace himself. Being a human sucked sometimes.

Derek was sitting between Stiles and Scott on the couch, looking on with (not-at-all) disguised disapproval at the drinking game that was going on. With something to do and some alcohol in his system, the scent was easy to ignore. He had almost completely forgotten about the dream until a few hours later, on the last question of the game before they left for Jungle, Erica asked Scott to take two drinks and tell the weirdest dream he had ever had.

Scott’s inhibitions were low, and the scent was making him feel warm and open. He took two drinks and giggled.

“Dude, I actually had this weird dream earlier today when I was taking a nap,” Scott said. “It’s pretty weird though, I’m not sure I should say anything.”

“C’mon, McCall, this is a safe space,” Erica goaded, kicking him from her place on the floor.

“Alright, alright. So, Stiles…Stiles was like, pregnant. Like humongously pregnant, like a whale,” Scott babbled, puffing out his stomach for emphasis. “And then, the dream, like, switched to a new scene, and Stiles was in the hospital bed, he had just given birth, you know? And he had given birth to a cat! And it looked exactly like Hyacinth!”

Scott laughed, the sort of drunken laugh that lasts forever and affects every part of your body. This was why it took him a few moments to realize that no one else was laughing. He looked around the room. “Dude, he gave birth to a cat! That’s hilarious, right?”

Derek was looking at him hard while Erica and Boyd gave each other a knowing look. Stiles was as red as a tomato due to a mixture of alcohol and embarrassment. He was looking down at his feet.

“C’mon, guys, it was just a dream. You all lose your sense of humor in the last five minutes?” Scott asked weakly. 

“It’s very funny,” Erica said, although she looked more thoughtful than amused. 

“I think it’s time for Jungle!” Boyd said, breaking the tension in the room. “Alpha’s driving, right?”

Stiles whooped and seemed to jump on a chance to forget what Scott had divulged. Scott watched in bewilderment as Stiles and Boyd hastily cleaned up a bit while Erica fixed her hair and make-up. 

“Let’s go!” Erica called as she headed out the door, Boyd and Stiles on her heels. Scott went to follow but Derek blocked the door.

“You’re not going,” Derek said, his arms crossed.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Scott asked, trying to push past the alpha but unsurprisingly getting nowhere.

“I said you’re not going,” Derek growled, his eyes turning red. “Stay here. I’ll drop them off and then come and take you home.”

“What the fuck, Derek?! You’re not my fucking mom or my babysitter. Get out of the way.”

Derek didn’t budge. “No, but I’m your alpha, and I’m ordering you to stay here.”

“Why? Because of that fucking dream? Why, Derek?”

“Because I said so,” Derek said in a low voice, and Scott could see his incisors peeking out, sharp as ever.

Scott reigned in his fury as best he could given the circumstances. He was keyed up enough to fight Derek, but he knew he wouldn’t win and it would just piss Stiles off. 

“Whatever,” Scott said. “What the fuck am I going to tell Stiles? And how are you going to be his chaperone if you’re driving me home?”

“I’ll come up with something,” Derek said, eyes turning back to normal. Scott sat back down on the couch and took solace in the fact that the scent still lingered where Stiles had sat.

“I’ll be back soon. I didn’t come to chaperone Stiles,” Derek said before closing the door behind him.

Scott stared at the door for several seconds after Derek had left. What the fuck was he talking about? What was going on this weekend?

Scott whipped out his phone and called Allison, who agreed that Derek was being super weird, but that Derek was the alpha and that Scott would have to suck it up. When he hung up, he had two texts- one from Stiles and one from Erica.

Stiles: how could u forget ur wallet? ur such a dumbass. Ps stop dreaming pregnant dreams about me.

Scott chuckled to himself- at least Stiles seemed to be taking the dream in stride. And he guessed Derek had come up with a pretty good lie.

Scott: I hope u give birth to a hippo in my dream 2nite.

He scrolled down to Erica’s text.

Erica: It will get better, promise. Kisses

Scott nearly threw his phone across the room. Again? What the fuck was she talking about? What would get better? He hoped it was Derek, because that guy was starting to piss him off.

He took a few calming breaths. And then it clicked. Erica and Boyd would have definitely realized that Derek was lying about the wallet, and apparently they were going along with it. Oh, and sending cryptic texts. And giving stupid looks when they should have been laughing about Stiles and his cat baby. What the fuck was going on with his pack?

Scott was suddenly exhausted, too confused and too full of alcohol. He laid down on the couch and fell asleep breathing in the remnants of the scent.

***

It was Wednesday of the next week, and Scott was going insane. He was in class, surreptitiously trying to text Stiles under the table and trying in vein to keep his leg from jiggling.

Scott hadn’t seen Stiles since he had left with the others to go to Jungle. Derek had woken him from the dead at Erica and Boyd’s and brought him home, and Scott had slept a full twelve hours. By the time he had woken up, Stiles had already gone back to school to make it in time for a study group before a big test on Monday.

If the last three days had been absolute hell on Scott, he knew that by association Stiles wasn’t fairing much better. Scott slept fitfully, and when he did he had the same dream about Stiles knocked up and looking so damn amazing in that fucking bed with that fucking cat. When he woke up from such a dream, he would text Stiles, not being able to control himself.

He texted Stiles at least ten times an hour, and called every night, and when he wasn’t trying to get through school work he was thinking about Stiles. Even during school work he was thinking about Stiles, and he looked down during a particularly grueling paper-writing session to find that he had typed “Stiles” 500 times in capital letters.

Scott’s jerk off average was about three times a day, but he still was in a constant state of dissatisfaction. And confusion. It didn’t help that every time he came, no matter what he had chosen as his jerk-off fantasy, it was Stiles’ stupid pregnant face that he saw when he came.

The hour from seven to eight that night was the longest of Scott’s life. He paced his bedroom, waiting for Stiles to show up on his Skype.

When eight finally rolled around, Scott almost smashed his keyboard in his hurry to accept Stiles’ call.

“Hey bro,” Stiles said with a tired smile.

In typical terms, Stiles didn’t look that good. His hair was more fucked up than usual, he had dark rings under his eyes from sleep deprivation, and he was wearing a coffee-stained t-shirt with what looked like fresh ketchup on the collar.

Scott thought he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“I miss you,” Scott blurted out, and Stiles was so tired he didn’t even tease him about being a total girl.

“Yeah, I got that from the several thousand texts you’ve sent me in the last three days,” Stiles replied, rubbing his eyes. “Are you okay, man?”

How did Scott answer that? No, I’m not okay, I’ve become a fidgety, crackhead-looking creep with a masturbation addiction and oh yeah, I dream about you pregnant?

“Yeah man, just stressed out I guess,” Scott answered. It wasn’t a total lie.

Stiles yawned. “I know the feeling. I’ve pulled an all-nighter every night this week, and tonight and tomorrow are going to be the same fucking way. I got a paper cut this morning and coffee came out instead of blood.”

“Well, you can catch up on sleep at home this weekend, right?” Scott asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. 

“Dude, I’ve been to Beacon Hills the last three weekends in a row. I’m taking this weekend off from the pack before I have to go baby-sit you all for the full moon,” Stiles answered, looking like he was going to fall asleep in his chair. “No, this weekend, I’m going to stay in my shitty dorm room, in my shitty dorm bed, and pass out, wake up and eat, and pass out again.”

“But you have to come home!” Scott cried, and he knew he must have looked deranged because Stiles leaned back a little from the screen.

“I think you should take a break too, man. Just relax this weekend. Hell, go out and get laid. You look insane,” Stiles said. “I’m worried about you.”

Get…laid? I mean…yeah, he could do that. Probably. Maybe. The thought was simultaneously the most revolting and the most amazing that Scott had ever heard.

“But I need you,” Scott said weakly, and Stiles snorted. 

“Yeah, you definitely need to get laid man. Let me know how it goes. Sorry to cut this chat short, but considering how much we’ve talked the last three days and that I’ve gotta take a fucking nap, I‘m gonna peace,” Stiles said. “Take care of yourself.”

Stiles ended the call before Scott could respond, and Scott fell back on his bed and groaned. He had thought the call would make him feel better, but he felt even worse. Maybe Stiles was right. He just needed to blow off some steam.

***

It was when he had turned down a total of five tipsy, totally-sexy co-eds at his favorite bar that Scott realized something was up.

It was Friday, and the tens were out. And they were flocking to him. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, they were all lining up to get a taste of the McCall. The wing man he had brought along, an Indian guy he worked with in the psych lab, watched in horror as Scott rejected them one-by-one.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” Pradnesh hissed, watching the retreating ass of a particularly voluptuous anthro major.

The truth was, Scott had no idea. He had come out for the sole purpose of finding a sexual play-mate for the night. But instead of the casual, “Sure,” he wanted to say when a girl invited him home, all that came out was a variation of, “Umm, no, sorry.”

The women looked great from far away, and well, up close too. But the strange thing was, they all reeked. Like, absolutely stank to high-heaven.

It wasn’t BO, or stale cigarettes, or crusty vomit- it was just their natural scent. It sort of made his stomach turn.

Scott was about to answer with something- not the truth, of course, but something- when his wolf ears picked up the conversation a group of women were having on the other side of the bar. Their eyes would flick to Scott occasionally, and he could the words “totally hot” and “super-ripped.” It was when the tallest one, a sexy blonde he had turned down first said “must be gay” that he spat out his drink. 

“Scott, man, what the hell is going on?” Pradnesh asked.

“Do I look gay to you, Prad?” Scott replied desperately, taking Prad by the shoulder and shaking him.

“Uhh, no?” Prad answered, trying to wriggle out of Scott’s grip to no avail. “But you should probably stop man-handling me, bro.” 

Point taken, Scott released his friend and downed the rest of his beer in one gulp. He was suddenly furious, white hot energy nearly blinding him. He pushed past the crowd by the bar violently as Prad followed behind, apologizing as he did.

When the two men were outside, Scott growled at a smoking couple who jumped and made their way back inside.

“What’s with the Hulk-out?” Prad asked, looking with mild fear as Scott kicked a can with such force that it completely crumpled and sailed across the entire street.

Scott turned to Prad and tried to calm down. The last thing he needed was to alienate one of his only friends at school with some supernatural freak-out.

The light was shining directly on Prad’s face, and his eyes caught Scott’s attention. They were a pleasing brown, the color of the tea his mom drank. They looked exactly like…Stiles’.  
“I gotta go!” Scott said, running around to the parking lot as Prad chased after him.

“Where are you going, man? What’s going on?”

“Sacramento College,” Scott said as he started the car.

“Now?! That’s like, five hours away, man!” Prad said desperately. “Can’t you wait until the morning?”

“I really don’t think I can,” Scott said as he closed the door to his car. He rolled down the window. “Sorry Prad. See you Monday!”

Scott sped away, his friend standing gob smacked in the parking lot.

He was an hour away from Stiles, right on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, when his phone rang for the tenth time. Scott looked at it and growled. Derek.

“Why the fuck do you keep calling me, man?” Scott said in way of greeting as he entered the Beacon Hills city limits.

“Because you didn’t answer the other nine times I called,” Derek responded, his voice low and angry. “Where are you?”

“Why do you care? It‘s 4 in the morning, dude,” Scott replied as he flew down Main Street. He was about to turn back onto the highway when he heard sirens blaring and saw lights flashing behind him.

“Are those sirens? Are you driving somewhere?” Derek asked. 

“Look man, I’m getting pulled over, I gotta go,” Scott said, throwing his phone on the seat next to him. Fuck, this was just what he needed.

He pulled over and rolled down his window as the cop got out of his car. He smelled Sheriff Stilinski before he saw him. Scott groaned. Even better.

The sheriff shined a flashlight into Scott’s face, the older man’s own face disappointed and tired. The look intensified when he sniffed. 

“Scott, get out of the car,” the sheriff said.

“Sheriff, please, I’m on my way to see Stiles. I’m sorry if I was driving fast but-”

“Stiles?” the sheriff asked sharply, alarm coloring his features. “Is he alright? Is he hurt?”

“No- I mean, he’s fine, I just needed-”

“Then it can wait. Get out of the car,” the sheriff said, his voice hard.

The sheriff performed a field sobriety test and did the Breathalyzer, both of which Scott passed (thank you, werewolf metabolism.) The sheriff visibly brightened in relief as Scott blew an acceptable number.

“Jesus Christ, Scott, if I had had to take you in for a DUI,” the sheriff said, running a hand over his face. “What were you thinking? You were doing twice the posted speed limit, Scott. You’re normally a cautious driver, but I couldn’t let that slide.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott said, the guilt at that moment trumping the energy and need running through him. “I’m sorry, sheriff.”  
“You’re gonna be more sorry when you see the number behind the dollar sign on the ticket I’m gonna write,” the sheriff said, although he gave Scott a small smile. “But since I am the sheriff, and my house could use some fresh paint, maybe we can work something out.

“Thanks sheriff,” Scott sighed, returning the smile. The sheriff nodded and went back to his cruiser, grabbing his ticket book. He wrote it out quickly and held it up so Scott could see. “I’ll pay this fine and keep it between us under three conditions: one, and most importantly, I never, ever, catch you doing something so stupid again.”

Scott nodded. “Of course, sir.”

“Two: you come on over as soon as school gets out, ready to work. For me. No complaints.”

Scott nodded again.

“And the last condition: you go straight to Chez Stilinski now and wait for me there. I’m about due to get off work, and I could use some coffee. We’ll chat a bit, alright?”

“But sheriff, I need to see Stiles-”

“No buts, Scott. If I know my son, he’s in bed right now, snoring his moles off. I’ll meet you back at the house, understand?”

Scott was in a mild panic. He needed to see Stiles, but he didn’t want to disobey the sheriff. It must have shown on his face, because the sheriff clapped him on the shoulder.

“Stiles will still be there tomorrow, if you still feel like it, alright? After you’ve gotten some sleep.”

Scott took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

***

Scott had never felt uncomfortable around the sheriff until this very moment, a cup of coffee in both of their hands at the Stilinskis’ kitchen table, the sheriff’s gaze hard but thoughtful.

“Now tell me, son, what was so important that you needed to go see Stiles at 4 in the morning?” The sheriff took a sip of his coffee. He wasn’t mad, but genuinely curious. And a bit concerned, if Scott’s wolf senses could still sense things.

Scott didn’t answer, just looked down at the chipped wood table top, his leg jiggling a million miles a minute.

“You know, Stiles has been pretty worried about you,” the sheriff offered, leaning forward. “Says you’ve been texting him like crazy, and calling a lot, too.”

Scott looked up in alarm.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t share any details,” the sheriff said, his hands up. “Although he did mention that you were upset he wouldn’t be back in Beacon Hills this weekend.”

The sheriff looked at Scott. “He almost drove down here anyway, he felt so bad, but he sounded so tired I wouldn’t hear of it.” He downed the rest of his coffee.

“He may be 22 years old, but I still have a responsibility to look after my son.”

Scott flinched at the sheriff’s words. Derek’s words from the car on their way to Erica and Boyd’s resounded in his ear: I have a responsibility to look after my pack members. Scott thought it might mean something, but his head was too full to piece anything together.

“Look, sheriff, I wasn’t going to do anything bad. I just…needed to see him,” Scott said, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t explain it.”

The sheriff looked at him without speaking, his face turning soft.

“You know, I remember one time, when Stiles’ mom was in college and I was stuck here, that I drove the full six hours to her campus and showed up at her doorstep with a six pack and a box of pizza, even though I had just seen her the day before.” The sheriff chuckled at the memory.

“She thought I was nuts, but sometimes, you just gotta see someone, you know?” The sheriff patted Scott’s hand. “It’ll get better, son.”

Scott fully perked up. First Erica, now the sheriff? “What will get better?” Scott asked desperately. “What are you talking about?”

“Why don’t you go on upstairs to Stiles’ room and get some sleep- I’ll let your mom know you’re here in a couple of hours,” the sheriff replied, ignoring Scott’s question.

The sheriff nodded up the stairs, and Scott did as he was told. Everything was just so fucking weird.

***

Scott was exhausted. He hadn’t gotten any sleep in Stiles’ room, not with the dumb scent all over his pillow and sheets.

He thought back to the time in Derek’s apartment, three weeks ago now, when he had first smelled the scent on Stiles. He had thought it was just a fluke, some new laundry detergent or something. But everyone had been acting weird around him since then, especially the wolves. Maybe he had spilled a potion or something, because he didn’t know what was going on.

He was trying to nap in his own house at around noon, after suffering through breakfast with his mother and the sheriff, when his phone rang. It was Derek.

“Man, I’m trying to sleep. I’m fucking exhausted,” Scott said. “Can this wait?”

“Where are you?” Derek asked, his voice urgent.

“I’m at my fucking house, why do you keep asking that?” Scott groaned.

“In Beacon Hills? What happened last night?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Okay, here’s the fucking story. I was on my way to see Stiles, the sheriff pulled me over for speeding on Main Street, and now here I am in my own bed, talking to an annoying alpha.”

“So you never saw Stiles, then?” Derek asked, ignoring the jibe.

“Nope, nada, no way no how, nein,” Scott responded. “Are we done now?”

“No,” Derek responded, his voice firm. “I’m coming over. Stay where you are.”

Fifteen minutes later Derek jumped through his window.  
“Still not a fan of doors, I take it?” Scott asked, sitting up in bed. 

Derek pulled the chair from Scott’s desk and sat down hard in it next to Scott’s bed.

“We need to talk,” Derek said, his eyes hard.

“But we’ve been so good together, you can’t break up with me now,” Scott said sarcastically, jumping when the alpha growled.

“This is serious, Scott. Stop joking around.”

“What’s so fucking serious? Look, I didn’t do anything-”

“I know,” Derek interrupted, running his hand through his hair. “But you will.”

“I will do what, Derek? I’ve gotten really good at controlling my wolf powers, I don’t know why you’re treating me like a fucking ticking time bomb,” Scott said, frustrated as hell.

“Because you are, Scott. All of this has to do with time. Specifically, the moon.”

“Ugh, no fucking kidding man. I think I’ve gotten that by now.”

“Just listen,” Derek growled. “Do you remember three weeks ago when you asked me Stiles smelled weird?”

“Yeah, but you said he didn’t. So what’s the big-”

“He didn’t smell weird to me,” Derek interrupted again. “Or the other wolves. But he still smells weird to you, doesn’t he? Something sweet, just on top of his regular scent?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Let me finish!” Derek yelled. Derek stood up, knocking over the chair, and started to pace Scott’s room.

“Erica and Boyd knew right away, but I wasn’t sure, at first. I didn’t take any chances, of course, but when you told us about that dream, it became pretty clear. And now, after last night…fuck, it’s a good thing the sheriff pulled you over,” Derek said, mostly to the wall.

“I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about!” Scott cried, anger bubbling up in him. “What the fuck is going on?”

Derek sighed, and sat back down in his chair. “Look, Scott…this is going to sound crazy…but you’ve scented Stiles.”

Scott stared at Derek. “Um, I fucking know that Derek, we just established that.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ…no, I mean you’ve scented him, scented him,” Derek said again, putting emphasis on the second “scented”.

When Scott didn’t pick up on Derek’s words, only stared at him blankly some more, Derek counted to ten, then began again.

“As a mate, Scott. You’ve scented him as a mate.”

Derek might have well been speaking Urdu. “What the fuck does that mean?” Scott asked.  
Derek looked up at the ceiling, looking to some nonexistent god for patience.

“Erica and Boyd had been dating for a year before the same thing happened to him. The scent, the dreams, the going crazy. It…happened to me, with Kate,” Derek said, looking away uncomfortably. “Always triggered by a full moon, always ended by the next full moon. Sometimes it happens again, sometimes it doesn’t.”

“But Stiles is a dude! And obviously I don’t want him that way, so what’s the big deal-”

“Obviously, you do, Scott, or do you always drive to see people at 4 in the morning?” Derek said, his voice hard. “We’re not bona fide wolves, there’s a lot of human shit mixed in. Males will scent males, females will scent females…and yeah, your wolf thinks it can knock Stiles up- hence the dreams- but what it really wants to do is claim.”

“Like, claim, claim?” Scott asked weakly, making a lewd hand gesture.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yes, sexually. And it will stop at nothing to get it, especially when the scent hits. I didn’t let you use my bathroom because Stiles had been in there…forever, the night before,” Derek looked at Scott pointedly, “and the scent would have made you crazy. I tried to keep you apart as much as possible, because the longer you stayed with Stiles, the worse it would have gotten.”

“And the night when we were supposed to go to Jungle?” Scott demanded.

“I didn’t realize how far along you were in the process until you told us about your dream. If you had seen Stiles dancing with anyone at that club, your wolf would have gone crazy. It would have attacked the person with Stiles and then taken Stiles by force. You couldn’t have controlled it,” Derek explained.

All of this was nuts. “But I’ve gotten really good at controlling my wolf,” Scott fumed. “I think I could have handled-”

“No, you couldn’t have,” Derek said. “Boyd and I could because we were in relationships at the time. We had…outlets.” 

“Well, I fucking tried to find an ‘outlet’ at the bar last night, but I couldn’t,” Scott said angrily. 

“Of course not,” Derek said. “Your wolf only wants Stiles. Everyone else’s arousal would have smelled awful.”

Scott laid back on his bed, his mind spinning. He was trying to process everything at once, and it was really fucking hard. Then one thing hit him like a ton of bricks.

“So…you’re saying…if I had gone to the club… I would have…raped, Stiles?” Scott asked, bile rising in his throat.

“You would have tried,” Derek answered, looking tired. “And I couldn’t let that happen to one of my pack. And that’s why I would have had to stop you from going to see Stiles at school if the sheriff hadn’t pulled you over. One whiff of him, especially after a week apart, and it would have been over. That’s why I called you, in your words, nine fucking times.”

Scott took a deep breath. This was all too surreal. But what about Erica, and what she had said? She and Boyd had both known from the beginning.

“Erica told me…that it would get better. What did she mean by that?”

“After the full moon passes next week, you’ll stop scenting Stiles. Hopefully.”  
“Hopefully?” Scott said, frustrated tears springing to his eyes.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it- if we have to get to it,” Derek answered.

“In the mean time…I suggest you don’t talk to Stiles. It will only make you crazy. And…” Derek took a deep breath. “You can’t come back to Beacon Hills for the full moon.”

“What?!” Scott said, sitting up straight in bed. “Why the fuck not?”

“Have you been listening to me? This full moon is when you’ll scent Stiles the most. You will not be able to control yourself if Stiles is close- hell, it would be too close if he’s a mile away,” Derek said firmly. 

“Well, maybe Stiles should just not come! He isn’t even a wolf,” Scott said, and Derek looked furious.

“Stiles is a member of this pack, human or not! I’m not going to punish him for something out of his control,” Derek said, his voice harsh.

“Well it’s not in my control either! I don’t…fuck, I don’t want Stiles like that! He’s my fucking best friend! My bro!”

“Your wolf begs to differ,” Derek said, standing up abruptly. “I will not let Stiles get hurt. Not under any circumstances.”

Scott pulled on his hair. “Can’t we just…tell him what’s going on? Maybe he’ll decide for himself that he’d just rather stay away.”

“No!” Derek growled. “He can’t know. And you better follow my directions and not text or call this week, you hear?”

“But why? He’ll get suspicious if I don’t talk to him all week!”

“You can text until tonight- then we’ll tell him you lost your phone,” Derek said, heading towards the window. “And if you come anywhere near Beacon Hills this Sunday…” Derek looked at him, his eyes glowing red. He jumped out the window before Scott could respond.

***

It was Wednesday night, and everything was the same- except now with Scott’s newfound knowledge, his dreams, his reluctant jerk-off sessions, and his jiggling leg were all colored with nausea.

He didn’t like guys, let alone Stiles. He had never thought about Stiles that way, and no, coming to the image of his face didn’t count. Besides, it was the fucking scent’s fault, anyways! Why, out of everyone in the world, was it fucking Stiles?

It was the refrain that had been sounding in his head all week. Why Stiles? Why Stiles? Stiles…his mate? Yeah, they were close, closer than ever…but…

His computer blared, Stiles’ name popping up on Skype. 

Scott put his head in his hands. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He hadn’t texted Stiles, and of course Stiles hadn’t contacted him, thinking his phone was lost. Scott had brushed off Stiles’ Facebook messages, too.

Needless to say, Scott was a little starved for contact. He clicked accept without a second thought.

“Scott?” Stiles said. “Are you there?”

Scott had ducked his head under the desk as soon as he had accepted Stiles’ call, for reasons he himself did not know. He sat up and warily glanced at the screen.

Stiles looked…he couldn’t say it, no, he couldn’t. Okay. Fine, it was the scent right? Beautiful. If he had looked beautiful before sleep-deprived and hyped on coffee, he looked amazing rested and healthy.

“Yeah, here,” Scott said weakly. “How are you, man?”

Fuck, he couldn’t even look Stiles in the eye, or he thought he might start spewing poetry or something.

Stiles frowned. “I’m okay, I guess…turned in my thesis, so it’s pretty smooth sailing from here, just a few finals to do. But…”

“But what?” Scott asked, risking a glimpse towards the screen.

“Are you mad at me?” Stiles asked in a rush, blushing a little.

“No! Why would you think that?” Scott replied, making the mistake of looking Stiles straight in the eye.

“Well, I thought…you know, since I hadn’t gone home this weekend…and, well, Derek told me you lost your phone but your mom answered at my house the other day, and she said she didn’t know anything about that…I thought…maybe you were avoiding me?” It came out as a question, and Stiles looked down at his desk.

Scott felt like complete shit. Of course Stiles would think that, that’s just who Stiles was. Scott got angry then, at Derek for his stupid plan, at the scent, at being a werewolf.

“No, of course I’m not mad! Why would you even think that?” Scott answered, standing up and pacing in front of the screen.

Stiles had jumped at Scott’s outburst. “Because…you look pissed as hell right now?”

“Well I’m not pissed…well, I am, but not at you,” Scott said, throwing a pair of socks across the room.

“Then what’s going on, Scott? Why did you lie about your phone?”

Scott took a deep breath. “It’s nothing Stiles. Don’t worry about it.”

Then it was Stiles who got mad. “What, twenty years of no secrets, and now you’re going to start keeping them? What the fuck, Scott? What the hell is going on?”

“It’s a wolf thing,” Scott gritted out. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

“I’ve been worrying about your wolf things for eight fucking years! What’s so top-secret that me, the lowly human, can’t know?”

“You just can’t!” Scott yelled. “You…you just can’t know.”

“Fine,” Stiles said. The call ended with a beep.

Scott ignored Stiles’ call ten minutes later, and then the one after that. He just couldn’t deal.

***  
Scott slept fitfully that night. He didn’t just dream about Stiles and that fucking cat. No, it was Stiles, angry. Stiles, slamming the door in his face. Stiles, screaming, “I never want to see your fucking face again!”

Scott woke up in a panic, cold sweat running down his face. He tried to calm down, running into the bathroom to throw some water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked fucking awful.

He resolutely ignored his phone and settled back down into bed, and didn’t wake up again until he was jolted out of sleep by his alarm. He had turned off alerts for everything else, and was amazed to see 30 missed calls and ten text messages.

All of the texts but one were from Stiles. The last was from his mother:

Heard u had fight with Stiles. Call me if u need to talk.

He checked his voicemail- 29 were from Stiles, and all were apologies and “call-me-backs”, until the very last one. That one was a simple “fuck you, Scott.”

The last one was a voicemail from Derek. “I told you not to talk to him.”

Scott threw his phone across the room, watching with delirious pleasure as it shattered against the wall.

***

Scott didn’t sleep for three days. And while it did wonders for his school work- he was pretty much caught up with everything and was three-quarters of the way through his capstone- it was hell on his mood. He snarled at anyone who happened to look his way, and Prad worked next to him in badly-concealed terror throughout their entire shift in the lab.

He communicated by email with his mother so that she knew he was alive, but that was about it. He didn’t want to talk to anyone but Stiles- the one person he couldn’t fucking talk to.

It was Sunday morning around eleven when he finally crashed. He was in the library, a pen in his hand, before his head hit his notebook and he was out like a light.

His days of sleep deprivation, all to avoid another fucking dream like Wednesday night’s, were wiped out by the one in the library.

Dream Scott was in Derek’s apartment, completely alone. Or, he thought he was, until he heard Stiles call out his name.

Dream Scott opened the door to the spare bedroom, where dream Stiles was standing with a huge smile on his face. Even dream Scott thought dream Stiles smelled fucking amazing, so he walked closer.

Dream Stiles pulled him into a hug, burying his face in dream Scott’s neck. Dream Scott inhaled deeply, his hand inexplicably drawn to dream Stiles’ head, where he ran his fingers through the dark brown hair and tugged a little.

Dream Scott pulled away a little, but dream Stiles grabbed his hand. “Please, don’t go. I need you.”

Dream Stiles looked so earnest, his face flushed and his lips full and pink.

“I can’t,” dream Scott said in a cracked voice. “I- I can’t hurt you.”

“You won’t,” dream Stiles said, wrapping his arms around dream Scott’s neck. “You would never hurt me.”

Dream Scott pulled them together, crashing his lips against dream Stiles’. They tasted as good as dream Stiles smelled, and he plunged his tongue into dream Stiles’ mouth, wanting even more. Dream Stiles kissed back feverishly, burying his hands in dream Scott’s hair. Dream Scott growled when dream Stiles nipped at his bottom lip.

All of a sudden the scene changed, and dream Stiles was underneath dream Scott on one of the spare beds. They were completely naked, although dream Scott saw a familiar pair of Playboy bunny boxers thrown on the other side of the room. He looked back down at dream Stiles, who was breathing heavily, his hands running up and down dream Scott’s back.

Dream Stiles looked really fucking good. Dream Scott kissed him again, and then turned to his throat, nipping and sucking and grinding his hard cock against the body beneath him. Dream Stiles was moaning beautifully, clutching at dream Scott’s back and digging his nails into tanned skin.

“Scott,” dream Stiles groaned, pulling dream Scott’s head away from his throat. 

“What is it?” dream Scott asked, running his hands through dream Stiles’ hair.

“I…I want…” dream Stiles began, looking away with a blush.

“What? What do you want? I’ll give you anything,” dream Scott declared.

“Please…bite me…” dream Stiles moaned.

It was then that Scott woke up with a start, sitting up straight in his chair. He heard a group of students giggling close by, and he removed the piece of paper glued to his face with drool before snarling at them. He gathered up his things quickly, holding a textbook strategically over his boner while he waddled out of the library.

He didn’t let himself panic until he was in his apartment. His boner hadn’t gone away, thanks to images of dream Stiles making stupid sexy noises underneath him and licking his stupid lips. 

He dropped his pants right in the kitchen and went to town, not stopping until he came, making an impressive mess on the floor. He dropped down to his knees and put his head in his hands.

“What the fuck is happening to me?” Scott groaned.

He cleaned up the kitchen and took a shower, but his panic hadn’t subsided. Neither had the images. The words “bite me” played over and over again in his head.

It was the scent, the fucking scent, Scott knew that. That’s why he felt tingly and hot at the thought of Stiles, his bro, his best fucking friend, wanton and willing and naked beneath him. He had never had a dream like that before, right? Right. It was the fucking scent, playing tricks on his mind.

He paced the living room. He looked at the clock and gasped when he saw that it was already 4:30pm. He had been asleep at the library way longer than he had thought. He jumped on the computer and looked up sunrise for the next day. Scott groaned when the 6:30am started at him from the screen.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, only fourteen more hours to go, right? You can do it, McCall,” Scott said to himself, jumping up and starting to pace again. “Then it will all be over. No more fucking scent, no more dreams, just back to normal.”

Scott jumped a foot when he heard someone calling him on Skype. “Jesus Christ, pull it together,” Scott said to himself before sparing a glance at the screen. He was both devastated and relieved to see that it wasn’t Stiles, but Allison. He bit his lip--I mean, in crisis situations, Stiles was his go-to guy. But that was out of the question, obviously, and his mom was at work. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Allison asked angrily when he accepted her call. 

“What?” Scott asked in surprise.

“I said- what- the fuck- is wrong with you?”

“What- what’re you-”

“Stiles, you fuckwit! What the fuck did you do to him?” Scott blinked, a million thoughts racing through his head.

“Is he okay? I didn’t-” Scott began, but Allison cut him off.

“You sure as hell did something, you ass, because he was here all last night, had a fucking panic attack and everything,” Allison fumed. Lydia sat down beside her girlfriend, equally pissed off.

“A bad one,” Lydia confirmed, holding a purring Hyacinth. “All because of you.”

“He said you’d been ignoring all of his calls and messages, and that you were keeping some secret from him. How dare you Scott? After all he’s done for you and the pack? He’s a fucking mess, thinks you’re dying or something,” Allison said, banging her fist on the table. “Leave it to Stiles to still worry about you when you’re the one being the asshole.”

“Look, it’s hard to understand-” Scott attempted desperately, this time being cut off by Lydia.

“I’m a fucking PhD candidate in astrophysics, McCall, I think I can understand whatever bullshit you’re dealing with,” Lydia said, her eyes narrowed. “Now tell us what the fuck is going on, now.”

“The truth,” Allison said, her voice hard. “And none of the cryptic bullshit the other wolves gave us.”

Scott sighed. This would all be over tomorrow, right? Something they could all laugh about later. And maybe he would stop freaking out if he talked about it, right? He buried his face in his hands.

“Stiles is my mate,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, can’t understand you with your hands covering your mouth,” Allison said, annoyed. “What was that?”

“Stiles is my mate,” Scott said, looking at the screen, a flush rising on his cheeks. 

Allison and Lydia looked at each other and then back at the screen. “So?”

Scott sighed in frustration. “Not like, ‘g’day mate’,” Scott said, trying and failing to affect an Australian accent. “Like-”

“Erica and Boyd,” Lydia supplied.

“You knew-”

“Yeah, we all did, dumbass. Erica has told that story at least a million times,” Allison said, rolling her eyes. “But no surprise that you missed it, Captain Oblivious.”

“Probably too busy talking to Stiles,” Lydia mused, scratching Hyacinth behind her ears. “In any case, I don’t see what that has to do with you treating Stiles like shit.”

Scott gaped at the screen. “Because…because it does! It’s…it’s Stiles! My bro! My buddy! It’s not fucking easy to wake up one day and have your best friend smell like a fucking birthday cake and then spend all month dreaming about him and going fucking insane-”

“Do you think it was easy for Stiles to have you ignore him all week?” Allison shot back. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Derek told me not to,” Scott replied angrily. “God he said…he said…that I would rape Stiles if I smelled him, that I wouldn’t be able to control it! What was I supposed to do?”

“Listen, Scott, Derek’s not exactly the master of interpersonal dynamics, if you hadn’t noticed,” Allison said with a huff. “I know he’s your alpha, but he’s almost as oblivious as you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scott said, growling.

“This isn’t the time or the place to say,” Lydia said, her tone cool. “Bottom line- you fucked up by not calling Stiles, and now it’s too late. You’ll ruin everything if you talk to him now, with the moon so close.”

“Ruin what?” Scott asked in exasperation.

“Stay home tonight, and then get in your fucking car and drive to Beacon Hills as soon as the sun rises,” Lydia said, ignoring the question. “Stiles won’t be going back to school until the afternoon.”

“And you better make things right, or there’ll be hell to pay,” Allison threatened before ending the call. Scott started at the screen for several minutes before looking at the clock at the bottom. 4:40. Fuck.

Scott didn’t know what end was up. He talked to Stiles, that was fucking up, he didn’t talk to Stiles, that was fucking up, too. What the hell did they want him to do? Did they think it was fucking easy being like this?   
For suddenly having homoerotic thoughts about your friend of twenty fucking years? Of knowing you could seriously hurt said friend if you got anywhere near him?

Scott would rather have Stiles never talk to him again than cause him any physical harm. He knew this with a certainty he only felt about a handful of things in his life. And if he had to go through hell for the next fourteen hours, he would fucking do it. He could deal with some stupid dreams. Determined, Scott tucked himself into bed and vowed to sleep until 6:30am. He set an alarm, punched his pillow a couple of times, and closed his eyes, steadfastly ignoring his jiggling leg.

***

He couldn’t fucking deal. He woke up with a gasp at 10pm, his whole body shaking. He was drenched in sweat, and he was so hot he swatted at his arms to make sure he wasn’t actually on fire. 

As soon as he stood up, more waves of heat ran up his arms and legs before turning into burn that hummed in his veins. It wasn’t so painful that he couldn’t stand it, but coupled with the energy thrumming through him, it was pretty fucking miserable.

He hopped under the shower spray, turning the temperature as cold as it would go. It didn’t help at all. He had dreamed of Stiles for six hours straight, nothing but Stiles’ moaning, writhing body on loop as he took him over and over again. He banged his first against the shower and willed the thoughts away, but the more he resisted, the more wired and keyed up he became. This is what addicts must feel like, Scott thought as he gulped a mouthful of water.

Realizing the shower was cutting it, he cut off the spray and ran to the kitchen, opening the freezer and grabbing a handful of ice cubes. He could swear he heard sizzling as he ran them over his body, up his neck and under his arms. It was useless. He needed Stiles, he was going to burn up if he didn’t, was going to just fucking combust. A particularly bad wave of heat rushed through him and he collapsed onto the floor, crawling to his computer.

Prad was online, thank fuck. He called him on Skype, his fingers trembling on the mouse. Prad answered right away.

“Scott? Hey man, what’s-Scott, fuck are you okay?” Prad said, looking with alarm at Scott’s flushed face, sweat still pouring down his forehead and dripping down his nose.

“Prad--I need, I need you to drive me to Beacon Hills,” Scott said, trying to control his voice.

“I think I need to call a fucking ambulance,” Prad said, panicked. “Hold on man, I’m calling right now-”

“No! I need to go back to Beacon Hills,” Scott said again, tears springing to his eyes for no reason than that his body was so fucking wrecked it was out of control. “I left a med at home, I really need it, and I can’t drive. Please man, I’ll give you gas money, take one of your shifts, anything.”

“Look man, I think they’ll have any med you need at the hospital,” Prad said, his finger hesitating over the “call” button. 

“No, they won’t…it’s really rare, what I have is really rare, I don’t talk about it a lot,” Scott said quickly, the lie flowing from his lips.

Prad frowned. “Look, Scott, if this is a drug thing…”

Scott laughed manically. “Dude, I live five minutes from the ghetto, I would be down there already if they had what I needed. Please man, I’m begging you. I need to go home.”

Scott’s nails were starting to grow, and he put all of his control into not wolfing out. He began to sob, the heat becoming unbearable.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” Prad said frantically, ending the call.

Scott dressed as best he could, but then discarded his shirt when it became too much. He ran outside, pressing a bottle of water to his face. Prad screeched to a halt in front of him a few minutes later.

“Get in the back,” Prad said, opening the door for him. He clambered in and found the back seat covered with towels, several ice packs looking like they had been hastily thrown into a cooler. When this was over, Prad was definitely getting a cake. Or ten. And a Ferrari.

Prad got behind the driver’s seat and pulled out, half way to the high way when he finally turned around to look at Scott. “Look, I really think I should take you to a hospital-”

“Just drive, please,” Scott begged. He was still shaking, but fortunately the waves of heat were less fierce. He opened the window and stuck his head out, and thought bitterly about all the dog jokes Stiles would make if he were here now.

Stiles. Now that he was on his way, the thoughts came flooding back. He groaned, laying down on his stomach so that Prad couldn’t see the boner he was sporting. Scott tried anything to take his mind off him, but he couldn’t. By the time they were halfway to Beacon Hills, the waves of heat were back.

“I need to gas up, it will only be five minutes,” Prad said as he scrambled out of the car. Scott was almost delirious by now, and it took all of his dwindling self-control not to break the window and run the rest of the way to Beacon Hills.

Prad returned soon with a bag of ice in one hand. He threw it in the back as he drove out of the parking lot. Scott accepted it thankfully and smashed it against his head.

It was the worst drive of his life. By the time they reached the Beacon Hills city limits, Scott’s nails were completely grown out and his incisors were fighting their way out.

“Stop here!” Scott called as they passed by a trail leading into the woods. It was 2:30 in the morning, and the pack would still be in their usual spot.

“Here?! But we’re in the middle of nowhere, man!” Prad said, looking back at Scott with frightened bewilderment.

“No, we’re close! I can go the rest of the way,” Scott said, trying to keep the growl out of his voice as he fumbled with the door lock.

“Jesus, Scott! Just calm down!” Prad said, slowing down in fear that Scott would actually manage to open the door.

“It’s alright, Prad. Just let me off here,” Scott said, and he tumbled out of the car when he unlocked the door. Prad screeched to a halt. 

Scott was on his feet in a second. “Thanks Prad! I’ll see you on Tuesday!” Scott yelled as he ran towards the trail.

With the moon out and heat still coursing through him, Scott shifted entirely to his wolf form and ran. He loped down the trail, adrenaline pushing him even faster, and faster yet. He was about a mile from the pack’s usual spot when he smelled the scent, and he howled.

The need to claim was strong, and it spurred him onwards, thoughts of Stiles running through his head as he growled. 

He was half a mile away when he heard voices shouting. “Get him out of here!” he heard Derek growl, and Erica and Boyd’s responding growls of their own. He heard Stiles cry out and sounds of struggle, and Allison and Lydia shouting frantically.

“Go! Run! We’ll take care of him!” Derek yelled.

Scott was in sight of the camp and barreling towards it when Derek, Erica and Boyd all jumped on him in their wolf forms. 

He fought desperately, scratching and clawing at his pack mates. He could smell the scent, it was permeating every pore of his body. He howled again and tried harder to escape, but Derek and Boyd were holding him down.

He saw Stiles looking at him in fear, frozen in place. Thoughts of mine, mine, mine rushed through Scott’s head, and he struggled harder. A few seconds later, he yowled as he felt something pierce his neck, and then he blacked out, Stiles’ face the last thing he saw.

***

He came to later, and he opened bleary eyes. He was in front of a window. The moon still shone through it.

As consciousness flooded back to him, he tried to move, only to realize he had been strapped down to a bed. Derek’s bed, to be exact.

He pulled on his restraints, but they wouldn’t budge. When a burst of pain blossomed in his bicep, he realized why he couldn’t get out- they had wolfsbaned him. Not enough to kill him, but enough to knock him out and keep him weak.

The scent hit him then, and he growled, furious. Didn’t they know Stiles was his? 

“Stiles!” he called out, trying in vain to get out of the restraints. “Stiles!”

He heard voices coming from the living room. The entire pack was there, as far as he could smell, and he shook his restraints violently. “Stiles!”

“You need to leave,” he heard Derek say. “Now.”

“But he needs me!” Stiles cried out. 

“He’s delirious!” Derek shouted back. “And dangerous for the next two hours until the sun rises. You need to leave.”

A rush of pure, unadulterated hatred gripped Scott in that moment. Fucking Derek and his stupid alpha bullshit! Stiles was his!

“Stiles!” he called out again for emphasis. Heat was coursing through his veins again, and he could feel the restraints starting to budge.

“The wolfs bane’s wearing off,” Derek growled. “And you being here is making it harder on him. I’m going to have to dose him one more time.”

“But-” Stiles tried, fear and concern and friendship and everything Scott had ever needed lacing his voice.

“Did you not understand what we explained to you earlier, Stiles? He has no control over himself right now. Put your feelings aside and think of your own safety for one fucking second,” Derek yelled. “Or do I have to do everything for this pack? If I hadn’t brought that wolfs bane, just in fucking case…”

“Stop being a dick, Derek,” Erica growled. She turned to Stiles. “Stiles, Derek is being an uber asshole, but he’s right. Scott is dangerous right now. Go upstairs with Allison and Lydia-”

“He needs to go home!” Derek interrupted, seething. Erica ignored him.

“-and stay there until sunrise. Okay?” 

Scott roared, the restraints almost breaking. He wouldn’t let Stiles leave, he couldn’t, he needed him so much, fuck, the burn-

“Stiles!” he shouted, blind fury gripping him. 

“Go!” Derek said, and he heard footsteps racing out the apartment. A moment later the door was flung open and Erica, Boyd, and Derek wolfed out. He roared again, growling at his pack mates until he felt the cold syringe for the second time that night.

***

When he woke up the second time, sunlight was pouring through Derek’s bedroom window.

He squinted, noticing a blurry figure at the end of the bed. When his vision cleared, he saw that it was Stiles, curled up and snoring, still fully dressed. Scott smiled, content, and fell back asleep.

He woke up again at noon. He blinked at the light still pouring through the window, and tried to sit up. He found that he could. His restraints were gone, and any sign that they had been there had healed, his wrists looking just like they always did. 

He felt…normal. Tired, sure, but…normal. The heat was gone, the white hot want, and although he could smell Stiles in the apartment, the scent was gone.

The scent… was gone. A wave of sadness that he couldn’t understand washed over him. 

“Stiles,” he croaked, but his throat was too dry to form proper words. He heard murmuring in the kitchen, and a moment later Stiles appeared, a glass of water in his hands.

He tried again to speak but Stiles shushed him, holding up the glass to his lips. Scott drank the entire thing and then Stiles retreated to the bathroom, coming out with another full glass and wet washcloth.

Stiles pressed it to Scott’s forehead, wiping away dirt and sweat and last night’s awfulness. When he thought Scott was capable of it, he handed him the glass, and Scott downed that one too.

Scott wanted to say something, anything. But what did you say when you woke up after a night of being restrained so you didn’t assault your best friend? So Scott just stared at Stiles, at his mussed hair, his moles, his brown eyes. Stiles didn’t say anything, just continued to wipe Scott’s face and neck, focused on his task in a way that Scott rarely saw.

“I think you should shower,” Stiles finally said, throwing the washcloth in Derek’s hamper. “You reek.”

Stiles stood up and went to move, but Scott grabbed his wrist. “Don’t go,” Scott said, and Stiles didn’t even tease him about the panic he heard in his voice.

“I’ll just be in the kitchen, dumbass,” Stiles responded. “Some of us need coffee after a night like last night.” There was no resentment in Stiles’ tone, and Scott returned the small smile Stiles gave him.

He showered, a million thoughts racing through his head. When he came out, there was a pile of his clothes from home neatly folded on the bed. They smelled like Stiles.

He dressed and made his way to the kitchen, terrified of the earful he knew he would get from Derek. Maybe even kicked out of the pack. But Derek just raised an eyebrow at him from his spot on the couch and continued to read his book.

He sat down at the kitchen table, and moments later Stiles placed a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. His stomach growled, and Stiles chuckled. “Eat up, big guy,” he said, before turning back to the kitchen to clean up.

Scott ate, sadness and bewilderment and shame running through him. Why was no one chewing him out? He had disobeyed the alpha’s orders and put a pack mate in danger. But here they were, Stiles cooking him a fucking breakfast and Derek ignoring him, as usual. 

“Where are Erica and Boyd?” Scott finally asked, assuming that the terror was yet to come.

“At home,” Derek answered, looking up from his book. “Probably catching up on sleep.”

“What about Allison and Lydia?”

“Work and home,” Stiles answered, sitting down at the table with a fresh cup of coffee. He wasn’t mad, Scott could tell, but he didn’t make eye contact, fidgetting in his chair.

Scott finished his breakfast, switching between staring at Stiles and at Derek, who had fallen asleep on the couch.

He stood up and brought his plate to the sink, washing it carefully. When he finished, he saw Stiles gesture towards Derek and then the door. He nodded and put on his shoes and followed Stiles out the door.

They met Lydia on the stairs, and if Scott had been expecting an earful from the redhead, he was disappointed. She only mouthed “talk to him” as she passed and headed back up the stairs to her own apartment.

He and Stiles walked side by side into the woods. Wordlessly they both veered away from the trail that would take them to the full moon spot, and Scott was thankful for how fucking smart Stiles could be sometimes.

They stopped by a creek and sat down on a log, throwing stones. 

“I’m sorry,” Scott finally said, looking down at his hands. “I…I know that doesn’t mean much, considering how much danger I put you in…but, I really mean it. I’m sorry.”

“And you’re sorry for being a complete fucking dumbass and not telling me and ignoring my calls and texts?” Stiles said, throwing another stone into the water.

“Yeah…that too,” Scott admitted sheepishly, looking up at Stiles. “Do you forgive me?”

Stiles considered the question, and Scott continued to stare. The sun was shining through the clear patch in the trees, and it illuminated Stiles’ face. Scott stared and his stomach flipped a little, but he brushed it off as relief at being with Stiles and not being hated.

“Yes,” Stiles said, and Scott shook himself out of his reverie. “I forgive you. But under three conditions.”

Scott laughed softly- Stiles really was like his dad.

“One: you don’t keep anything from me ever again.” Stiles looked hard at Scott. “I looked in the Bestiary once Derek had told me what was going on. You could have gotten really sick from not…following through with the mating. Of course, Derek is a complete moron and didn’t realize that there was a potion to help you go through it without actually doing the deed. It was a good thing they knocked you out with the wolfs bane.”

A rush of hot shame flood Scott’s gut, and he looked down at the ground again.

“Two: you don’t beat yourself up over this. It wasn’t your fault, okay? There was nothing you knew about that you could have done. Your only mistake? See condition one. I could have helped if you had told me.” Stiles cuffed Scott on the shoulder, and Scott looked up and nodded.

“Yeah, I know. It was just…weird, you know? I mean, how do you tell someone that?”

“Oh, you would have done it in your usual eloquent manner,” Stiles replied with a grin. Scott’s stomach flipped again, and he grinned back.

“So what’s the third condition?” Scott asked, and he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

“You tell me how the fuck you got here last night. Seriously, dude, did you run all the way here?” Stiles asked in awe, and Scott laughed. He laughed for the first time in two weeks and harder than he had in a long time.

He explained about Prad, and Stiles agreed the kid deserved at least 20 cakes and several strippers. 

They talked for another two hours after that, catching up on the past week and everything else that had gotten lost in the scent during the past month. By the time Stiles looked at his watch and declared that it was time to get the fuck out of there, Scott felt like things were back to normal.

Stiles drove him home, and they were surprised to find Melissa sitting at the kitchen table. She was just as surprised to see them. They explained that it was a wolf thing, and she really didn’t want to know more than that.

Scott hugged Stiles in the drive way, and even though the scent was gone, it was still good. Scott didn’t really want to let go.

“We’re good, right?” Scott asked when they finally pulled apart. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Of course we’re good, man. Message me your new number.”

“Yeah man,” Scott replied, and waved to Stiles as he hopped in the Jeep and drove away.

“Seems like you two have patched things up,” Melissa commented when he came back in, an expression on her face that Scott couldn’t place.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” Scott said, and once again he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

***

The rest of the school year flew by, and Scott found he could concentrate much better without constant boners and stressful dreams. He still missed the scent, but soon the memory of it started to fade eventually.

His thoughts about Stiles didn’t, however. He was at pre-scent levels of communication with Stiles, but even that wasn’t enough. Stiles didn’t seem to mind the calls or texts, though, and Scott was glad for it.

He still had dreams about Stiles, sometimes, and stared at his face on Skype, but Scott chalked it up to residual scent effects.

Finals came and went with the usual stress, but tinged with the excitement of being finished. Stiles whooped and hollered louder than anyone at Scott’s graduation, his mother crying and the sheriff smiling big and proud. The pack all came to Stiles’ graduation a week later, and Scott returned the favor. Stiles grinned and pumped his fist in Scott’s direction before promptly tripping and falling on the dais, and everyone, including, Stiles, laughed. It was a great fucking day.

Stiles helped Scott move his shit out of his apartment and lug it back to Beacon Hills. Scott’s lease was up, and he had no desire to stay. He had accepted a job in the mental health clinic in town, and they would help pay for him to get a Master’s online. Stiles had found an internship at a graphic design firm and would work there a couple of hours a week while he looked for, as he called it, “a big boy job.”

The end of May and June went by fast, Scott and Stiles spending most of their time at Allison and Lydia’s apartment before the two women moved to Boston at the beginning of July. That goodbye was tearful on everyone’s part, and even Lydia gave Scott a big hug as they all stood by the women’s car.

“Don’t be a dumbass,” she whispered in his ear. He rolled his eyes but nodded, accepting her kiss on the cheek. The pack waved as they drove away on June 30, off to their new life together.


	3. Chapter 3

The full moon was that night, and the wolves and Stiles trooped to the usual spot. No one mentioned Scott’s wolf-out there, almost two and a half months ago now. They roasted marshmallows and drank and howled at the moon like idiots, and even Derek looked like he was in good spirits.

Erica stood up at one point and cleared her throat, holding out her bottle of vodka. “To Allison and Lydia,” she said, pouring a bit of the liquor on the fire. They all watched as it blazed. “To Allison and Lydia,” they repeated, holding up their drinks.

An hour later, Scott felt something thud against his shoulder. He looked down and saw that Stiles had fallen asleep, a half-full cup of beer in his hand. He rolled his eyes at the pack and stood up, pulling Stiles into his arms fireman-style. 

“Humans just can’t keep up,” Scott said fondly, carrying a snoring Stiles down the path towards Derek’s apartment. He didn’t see Erica and Boyd smile knowingly at each other, or Derek smirk, just a little.

***

The next day, Scott drove Stiles home. The sheriff was outside washing his car. Stiles bounded inside the house with a “Hey, dad, starving!” and Scott moved to follow when the sheriff grabbed his arm.

“Now that you’ve had a nice break, something is lookin’ like it needs some fresh paint,” the sheriff said, nodding towards the house. “I bet I even know a guy who will help you out, if you ask nicely.”

So July was spent working and painting the Stilinski house, Stiles demanding several trips for curly fries in exchange for his services. Scott indulged him, even if it was just to see Stiles smile when he took that first bite. Not that he thought girly stuff like that, though.

It was a particularly scorching day in the middle of the month, and Scott and Stiles were working on the back of the house. They both were sweating bullets, and even the sheriff’s constant supply of iced tea wasn’t helping.

“It’s fucking hot!” Stiles yelled at around 3pm, throwing down his paint brush.

“Language!” the sheriff called from inside the house, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

Stiles stripped off his shirt, throwing it at Scott’s head. Scott was definitely not mesmerized by Stiles’ sweaty, tanned skin, nor did he squawk indignantly when moments later Stiles sprayed a hose directly at his crotch.

It did shock the system, however, and he growled playfully. It was war. He chased Stiles around the yard, getting several face fulls of water before he wrestled the hose out of Stiles’ grip and got some payback. Stiles ran to the spigot and turned it off, grinning triumphantly although he was drenched.

“I’ve won!” Stiles declared.

“Oh yeah?” Scott said, tackling Stiles to the ground. It really wasn’t a contest, not with Scott’s werewolf strength, but he let Stiles pin him down anyway. 

Stiles grinned above him, his face flushed, his eyes shining, and like a ton of bricks the memory of that first dream he had had about Stiles months ago hit Scott full on. He stared at Stiles for a long time before reaching out a flailing arm to Stiles’ torso, finding that his male friend was, in fact, not pregnant. 

Stiles rolled off of him and jumped up, running into the house with a yelled, “I’m off for today! Shower time!”

Scott laid on the ground, sitting up only when the sun became too much to handle. He looked down at his wet crotch and realized with a wave of panic that he was half hard.

***

Scott spent the rest of the day in a frenzy, worrying that Stiles had noticed. But Stiles was acting as normal as ever, joking and laughing and kicking his ass at Grand Theft Auto, so eventually it slipped from his mind.

He stared at Stiles more often after that, though. Apparently the scent had long hang time, because sometimes, when Stiles would take a break from painting and sigh, his face brightened by the sun, he felt a wave of want crash through him. 

Later that week, a pretty young woman named Kira who had just moved to town and started at the clinic asked him out. She was cute, and smelled nice, so Scott agreed. 

Stiles was strangely enthusiastic about the whole thing. The first date had gone okay, but Scott wasn’t sure he wanted to take her out again. Stiles pushed him until he relented, and he spent the evening with her at the park, eating ice cream cones. 

She was nice, and smart, and Scott enjoyed spending time with her. He dropped her off at her door step, and she looked up shyly. He kissed her, because he thought he should, and when he pulled away, her cheeks were flushed and she was smiling brightly.

Scott felt…nothing, really. Not the desire he should feel after kissing a pretty woman who liked him. 

Scott angsted about telling her all weekend, but it was very anticlimactic on Monday when he returned to work and she shrugged. “You’re not feeling it, you’re not feeling it. Still friends though, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Scott said with relief, giving her a huge smile. She returned it.

Kira started hanging out with Scott and Stiles. She and Stiles hit it off right from the start, but more in a bro way, not a romantic one. Scott was strangely relieved.

It was the end of July, and Scott and Stiles were celebrating the finished paint job on the Stilinskis’ porch with Kira, a beer in each of their hands. There was a nice breeze going and they sat in companionable silence, Scott and Stiles on the porch swing and Kira in an adjacent chair. 

Stiles had his head leaned back, his eyes closed. Stiles had always been weirdly sedated by the porch swing. Scott had been looking out onto the street, until he caught Kira staring. She had been doing that a lot when they hung out. Not obviously, just, sometimes Scott would catch her like he had now, looking thoughtful, her pretty eyes wise beyond her years.

Kira finished her beer and stood up. “One beer’s about all I can do, boys. Asian glow and all that.” Stiles grunted and remained still. Scott chuckled and stood up. 

“I’ll walk you home.”

They walked side by side in the same comfortable silence as before. It wasn’t until they were at Kira’s doorstep that she finally spoke.

“Stiles is nice,” Kira said, smiling up at Scott. “He really cares about you, I can tell.”

“Well, we’ve been friends since we were two years old, that’s gotta count for something,” Scott replied, slapping a mosquito that had landed on his arm.

“Strange that he doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Kira commented, her tone casual. “He’s cute, for a spaz.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Scott responded, suddenly uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. His gut tightened as a thought hit him.

“Are you…interested…?” Scott began, his voice higher than usual. He sounded like his balls had just been cut off.

“God, no,” Kira said. “Definitely not my type.”

“Oh,” Scott replied lamely, thankfully in his normal register.

“Has he dated a lot?” Kira asked. She picked at a cuticle.

“A little,” Scott answered. “There were a couple of girls at college, but none of them really panned out.”

“Why?” Kira queried.

“I don’t know, you’d have to ask him,” Scott responded. What the fuck was with the third degree?

“Hmm.” Kira looked at Scott again and then hopped up the steps. “Thanks for walking me home!” 

Scott walked back to the Stilinskis’, confused as ever. If Kira wasn’t interested in Stiles, why was she asking all those questions? Was she lying about not being interested? But no, he could tell when someone was lying (thank you werewolf sense) and she seemed to be telling the truth.

She asked a fair question, though. Why didn’t Stiles have a girlfriend? 

Scott had dated a lot in college, had even been with one girl six months before they decided to call it quits. He had decided to cool down this semester, not wanting to fuck up his last one before graduation with relationship drama. But Stiles…Stiles’ longest relationship had lasted two weeks. A girl their first year at school. He had lost his virginity and then two days later, they were done. 

Stiles wasn’t a wham-bam-thank you-ma’am sort of guy- hell, he had crushed on Lydia for the entirety of high school. His romantic interests lasted. But Stiles had breezed his way through college single, cheering Scott on but not making much of an effort to find someone for himself. 

Stiles was a great guy. Sure, he was a spaz, but some girls found that endearing. And he definitely wasn’t ugly.

This thought was confirmed as Scott hopped up the front steps, Stiles snoring loudly on the porch swing. Stiles looked tan and peaceful, and…sort of beautiful. Not that Scott used that particular word, of course. Didn’t even think it. Not him.

Scott removed the cup from Stiles’ hand and picked him up fire-man style for the second time that month. He made a fond, exasperated face at the sheriff sitting on the couch before climbing up the stairs. He didn’t see the sheriff’s knowing smile.

***

August arrived and it was time for another full moon. Stiles was on pizza duty, so Scott had opted to walk to Derek‘s. It was an unusually cool day, and he was glad for it.

His phone rang halfway there, and he was pleased to see it was Allison.

“Hey,” he answered. “How’re you two doing in the big city?”

“Ugh, we’re still living out of boxes,” Allison replied, and he could hear Lydia yelling at Hyacinth in the background. “Hyacinth is having a field day. We can never find her.”

Scott laughed. “I bet.”

“But, Lydia loves everything so far, and can’t wait to get started. And I found a job in a gym a couple T stops away.”

“I’m glad,” Scott said, genuinely happy for his friend. It sucked not having the brunette in the same town, living off of phone calls and Skype chats.

“But what about you? Lydia said that Stiles told her you had been seeing someone,” Allison said, and Scott could tell she was trying not to sound too interested. He rolled his eyes- it would be a strange fucking day that Stiles kept something from Lydia.

“Yeah, I went on a couple of dates,” Scott said. “But it didn’t really work out.”

“Not as amazing as me?” Allison asked, and Scott laughed.

“Definitely not. I mean, she’s super cute, and smart. Nice too,” Scott began, and he struggled to find his next words. “It just…didn’t feel right.”

“Oh?” Allison said casually. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know…she’s great, don’t get me wrong. She’s been hanging out with me and Stiles a lot, and we’ve had a ton of fun. I just…like her as a friend, I guess.”

“Hmm,” Allison replied, and Scott was immediately reminded of Kira on her doorstep.

“Hmm what?” Scott asked. What was with women and their cryptic hmms?

“Nothing,” Allison said flippantly. “And Stiles? How is he?”

“Good, great, actually. The place where he’s interning offered him a full-time job, so he’ll be staying in Beacon Hills. We’re even thinking about getting a place together,” Scott said, and he smiled at the thought. “Can’t get out of the town, but at least out of our childhood homes. My mom says that counts for something.”

Allison laughed. “Full moon tonight, right? Lydia and I still keep track.”

“Yep, I’m on my way to Derek’s now. Stiles is getting the pizzas.”

“And Erica’s getting the liquor?”

“You know it,” Scott chuckled. “Not much has changed for us since you’ve left.”

“Not yet,” Allison said mysteriously. Scott began to ask what the fuck that meant when he heard Lydia yell in the background.

“Ugh, I’ve gotta go, Scott. Lydia can’t find Hyacinth again, and it’s getting late, our time. Chat again soon?”

“Of course,” Scott said.  
“Oh, and Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be a dumbass.” Allison ended the call.

Scott decided that human women were even weirder than werewolves.

***

Scott woke up the next morning in one of Derek’s spare beds, his mouth rank with beer and pizza. He sat up and hopped out of bed, heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He stopped dead in his tracks when he passed by Stiles, passed out and snoring on the other bed.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

***

“I told you it might happen again,” Derek said, looking with disapproval at Scott who had collapsed on his couch with an arm over his face.

“But it’s been a couple full moons since then. I thought…you know…it had passed.” Scott rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. “What am I going to do?”

“What are you going to do about what?” Stiles asked sleepily, padding out into the living room. The scent flooded Scott’s nostrils and he groaned again. He was working up the nerve, he swore he was, when Derek did the job for him.

“He’s scented you again,” Derek said bluntly. Thanks a lot, Derek.

“Oh,” Stiles said. “Well…oh.”

“Seems like you’re on the same page as Scott,” Derek said, raising an eyebrow. “The first one.”

Scott and Stiles gave Derek the finger in unison.

“Well, look, at least we’re prepared this time, right? We’ll make the potion that was in the Bestiary,” Stiles said. “The full moon will pass, I’ll stop smelling amazing, and everything will be back to normal.”

Scott sat up and Stiles gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I bet it tastes gross,” Scott groaned. Stiles rolled his eyes.

***

Derek had kicked them out again, so Scott and Stiles were sitting at a table by the window at their favorite coffee shop.

Stiles slammed the Bestiary shut.

“So, what, do I have to drink an eye of newt or something?”

“No, idiot,” Stiles said, taking a sip of his coffee. “The ingredients are all normal. The worst you’ll have to chug is a piece of my hair.”

Scott made a face. Stiles ignored him.

“It has to sit for a week though, before you can drink it. When did you start to get bad the last time?”

“At Lydia’s party,” Scott replied, a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Is that why you fainted?” Stiles asked.

“I didn’t faint!” Scott protested. Stiles looked at him, and Scott saw a million emotions flicker across his face before it settled back to mild determination.

“Well, that was like, what? Two weeks after the full moon? If we whip this up today, you’ll be fine. You only have to drink it one time, and you’ll be set for the rest of the month.” 

***

Stiles plucked a hair out of his head with a yelp and threw it into the boiling pot. 

“I feel like Harry fucking Potter,” Stiles mumbled, and Derek snorted from his place at the kitchen table.

“Yeah, keep laughing, sour wolf, this could happen to you next. That’s just what I need, a douche bag alpha sniffing around me. At least Scott…”

“At least I what?” Scott asked from his place beside Derek.

“At least…you’re just a dumbass and not a douche bag,” Stiles replied, turning back to the stove, his cheeks turning red. Derek rolled his eyes. Scott chalked it up to the steam.

When the potion had cooled down, Stiles poured it into a vial and put a cork in it, holding it up triumphantly. “My work is complete!”

“Where did you get a fucking vial?” Scott asked, and Stiles blushed again.

“I just wanted to be legit, alright?” Stiles said with a huff, and Scott laughed as Stiles gingerly placed the vial on the shelf above Derek’s stove. Stiles looked at his watch. 

“Alright, this baby will be ready at 4pm sharp next Monday. Don’t fuck with it,” Stiles said, pointing a finger at Derek. Derek ignored him.

“So…we’re good?” Scott asked.

“We’re good. You can enjoy one week of Eau de Stiles guilt free,” Stiles replied, walking over behind Scott. He wrapped his arms around Scott dramatically. “How do I smell? Amazing, right? Like, Armani should just bottle me up? Axe should take out a patent?”

“I hate you,” Scott groaned, reluctantly shrugging Stiles off his back. He did inhale deeply, making Stiles laugh.

“Love you too, bro.”

***

Now that he knew what was happening, the week was fairly uneventful. Scott and Stiles still hung out after work, but had agreed by some silent pact to cut their chill session shorter than usual. 

Stiles smelled great, and the scent only calmed him this time around instead of making his head swim. 

The dreams had started up, but Scott was dealing with a healthy dose of masturbation and denial. 

What was different this time around was that Scott had an urge to touch Stiles. Not sexually, you know, that wasn’t fucking new, but…yeah. Just touching.

Scott didn’t realize he was doing it until he and Stiles met up with Kira one day after work, three days before he was due to take the potion. His arm was around Stiles’ shoulders as they walked to the ice cream stand, and they were laughing at some stupid joke Stiles had made.

“Hey Kira!” Scott shouted.

“Hey boys,” Kira responded, and she hid a smile behind her hand when she noticed Scott’s arm. Scott removed it quickly, cuffing Stiles on the shoulder. Stiles laughed, but only Kira noticed it was forced.

They all got cones and then walked around the park, enjoying the dwindling number of days they would have when the sun was still out at 8pm. They chatted and laughed, Kira and Scott regaling Stiles with tales of their boss and his unfortunate streak of bad luck. 

“Little did he know, that streak of bad luck was named Kira,” she said, and Stiles gasped.

“You little she-devil!” Stiles said, laughing. He took a bite of his ice cream- well, cone, the ice cream was gone- and Scott laughed.

“You’ve got some on your face,” Scott said, using his thumb to swipe the offending dessert off Stiles’ chin. 

“Uh, thanks bro,” Stiles said, and he grinned sheepishly at Kira. “He’s a multi-function bro. Part dumb-ass, part chin cleaner.”

Kira nodded understandingly, and only Scott noticed when Kira winked when Stiles looked to where some little kids were chasing each other on the playground.

On Saturday, Scott grabbed Stiles by the arm so many times that he started to bruise.

“Dude, look what you did!” Stiles said, pulling up his shirt sleeve. Scott rolled his eyes and healed the bruise before settling down next to Stiles with a bowl of popcorn. Halfway through the movie, the sheriff came home from work and cleared his throat.

“Hey da-,” Stiles said through a mouthful of popcorn. “How wa wor?” Masticated popcorn fell onto Stiles’ lap, and the sheriff sighed. Stiles swallowed and shrugged.

“It was alright. You too look like you’re having fun,” the sheriff commented, and his eyes flicked to Scott’s arm around Stiles. And seriously, when the fuck had he done that?

“Oh, yeah, just watching a movie,” Scott said, totally suavely moving his arm away. He elbowed Stiles in the face.

“Ow! Dumbass,” Stiles said, holding his eye. “First my arm, and now my eye? You’re gonna kill me, I know it. I’m doomed.”

The sheriff smiled to himself and headed up the stairs. “Have fun, boys.”

***

It was Sunday when the weird protective thing started happening. Stiles, Scott, Erica and Boyd were walking to the diner when Stiles tripped on the sidewalk. 

Scott pulled Stiles flush against him, and two seconds later a car drove past.

“What are you doing, man?” Stiles asked, his face crunched into Scott’s t-shirt. Scott released Stiles quickly.

“Um…I thought you were going to go into the street, and there was a car coming,” Scott replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Dude, I was like, five feet away from the street,” Stiles observed.

“Boyd yelled at a waiter because there was a hair in my food and he thought they were trying to poison me,” Erica offered. Scott glared at her.

Afterwards, when Stiles and Scott were walking back to Chez McCall, Scott pulled Stiles behind him as they encountered an elderly woman, her dog barking loudly. The woman passed, giving them a strange look.

“What the fuck was that?” Stiles asked, exasperated.

“The dog was barking…it could have attacked you,” Scott replied, his cheeks turning red.

“I think even I could take on a four-pound Chihuahua,” Stiles huffed.

“Sorry?” Scott tried. Stiles stomped ahead of him.

They made it without incident until they reached Scott’s house. Scott stopped abruptly, sending Stiles smashing into his back.

“What now?” Stiles hissed.

“Look, the door to my house is open, but my mom’s car isn’t in the driveway. Maybe someone’s inside,” Scott whispered.

“It’s 2 in the afternoon Scott. Who would break into your fucking house now?” Stiles whispered back. “Why am I whispering? This is dumb.” Scott shushed him.

“Can’t you smell if there’s someone weird in there?” Stiles whispered.

“You can never be too sure,” Scott whispered. “You stay here, I’ll go check.”

“Scott, this is ridiculous. I’m-”

“Stay here.” 

Scott crept up the stairs to his house and opened the door slightly so he could slide in. The house smelled like his mom, but she fucking lived here, of course it did. He could hear a heart beating in the kitchen, and he crept up, one, two, three, before jumping into the room and growling.

Melissa shrieked and dropped a glass of juice, and Scott winced as it shattered on the floor.

“Jesus Christ, Scott! What the hell are you doing?” Melissa gasped, clutching her chest. 

Stiles came into the room two seconds later and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, some intruder Scott. You know, it’s not an intruder if they live in the house they’re breaking into.”

“Intruder? What are you talking about?” Melissa asked, still breathing heavily.

“The door was open, but your car wasn’t in the driveway,” Scott mumbled.

“I was letting some fresh air in the house, and my car is in the shop. One of the nurses drove me home at the end of our shift,” Melissa explained. “Jesus, Scott. Clean up this mess. I think I need to go change my underwear.”

Mama McCall went upstairs, and Scott turned to find Stiles looking at him, his arms crossed.

“You know, I think I’m going to leave before you actually do kill me with kindness. Or your mom.”

“I can drive you home!” Scott said desperately.

“No, I’m good. Don’t want you playing knight in shining armor when someone looks at me funny at a stoplight,” Stiles said, backing away. “I’ll see you tomorrow at 4, at Derek’s.”

“You can’t walk by yourself!”

“I’ve been doing it for a long time now, and have been doing pretty good, tendency to trip and all,” Stiles replied heading out the door. “Four! Derek’s!” Scott heard him say as he closed the door.

Scott groaned and grabbed a broom.

***

Scott was in a panic. He was pacing the living room, his phone clutched in his hand. 

“Scott, honey, what’s wrong?” Melissa asked as she entered the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“Nothing,” Scott replied. He checked his phone again and growled.

“You look pretty upset, sweetie. What’s going on?”

“It’s Stiles,” Scott admitted desperately. 

“What about him? Is he okay?” Melissa queried, looking alarmed.

“He hasn’t responded to my text! It’s been 17 minutes!” Scott explained, holding up his phone. “Who takes 17 minutes to respond to a text? What if something happened? I should go over and check.”

Scott moved towards the door. “Scott,” Melissa called out, and when he turned around, he could tell she was trying not to laugh.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he went to shower. Why don’t you come sit with me on the couch?” Melissa sat down and patted the space next to her.

“He didn’t say he was going to take a shower!”

“He’s twenty-two years old, baby. He can take a shower without telling anyone,” Melissa said soothingly. “Come sit with your mother.”

Scott sighed but did as he was told. If Stiles hadn’t responded in three more minutes, he was definitely going over.

Melissa cupped Scott’s cheek and rubbed some dinner he had missed off his cheek.

“What’s going on, Scott? The sheriff and I have noticed you’ve been acting differently lately,” Melissa said carefully.

“It’s a wolf thing,” Scott replied, leaning into his mother’s touch.

“Why don’t you tell me about it? You know you can tell me anything, right? And that I’ll love you, no matter what?” Scott sighed, the after-school-specialness tone of his mother’s voice lost on him.

“Stiles is my mate,” Scott mumbled.

“Your what?” 

“My mate. It’s called…scenting. Like, he smells different than normal. And better than everyone else. Remember last semester when I came home all those weekends? It happened then too, but it was a lot worse. I didn’t know what was going on, and…and I could have hurt Stiles. But it’s better this time. Stiles made a potion so I won’t freak out like last time, and once the full moon comes again I should be good.” Scott had had his head on his mother’s shoulder, and he reveled in her comforting scent and her hand running through his hair.

“You were sort of freaking out a minute ago,” Melissa observed.

“I wasn’t around Stiles so much last time, so I guess a missed a lot of the experience. I saved him from a Chihuahua today,” Scott said, and Melissa laughed.

“So Stiles knows what’s going on? What does he think about it, being your mate?”

“I mean, he’s okay with it, I guess,” Scott answered. “He knows I can’t control it.”

“So he doesn’t mind you texting him every two minutes?”

“Oh my god!” Scott cried, and he checked his phone, sighing in relief when he saw that Stiles had responded.

“He was in the shower,” Scott admitted sheepishly.

“You know, it’s a good thing someone as patient as Stiles is your mate,” Melissa commented. “And someone who cares about you as much as he does.”

“Yeah, well, twenty years of friendship’s gotta be good for something,” Scott replied, same as he had to Kira.

“Oh honey,” Melissa said, kissing his forehead. “You can be such a dumbass sometimes.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” Scott cried, but Stiles texted him and it slipped his mind.

***

Scott sat at Derek’s kitchen table, eyeing the vial on its shelf. The liquid inside had turned bright yellow, and it sort of looked like Sunny Delight. Scott would be lucky if it tasted that good.

Derek had let him in right at 4pm and then left, mumbling something about groceries. 

It was 4:03. Where was Stiles?

On cue, Stiles barreled through the door. “Man, I’m sorry, I got out late,” Stiles gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Did you drink it yet?”

“No, I was waiting for you,” Scott replied, and he inhaled as the scent flooded his nostrils. Man, he was definitely gonna miss that.

Stiles finally caught his breath and shut the door, dropping his bag on the floor by Derek’s couch. He grabbed the vial off the stove and uncorked it, taking a sniff. He grimaced. Scott groaned. So much for it tasting like Sunny Delight.

“Well, bottoms up, buddy,” Stiles said, placing the vial in front of Scott and patting him on the shoulder sympathetically.

Scott leaned into Stiles touch and inhaled again, and he looked up at Stiles, trying to form words he was too embarrassed to say.

“You want to smell me again before you drink it, don’t you?” Stiles asked in mock annoyance, although a small smile curled his lips up. 

“Yeah. That’s weird, isn’t it?” Scott said, rubbing his neck.

“Totally, but weird is what we do right?” Stiles held open his arms. “Come on, big guy. Bro hug, you and me. Get your smell on.”

Scott stood up, giving Stiles a thankful look before accepting Stiles’ hug. He buried his face in Stiles’ neck, and let the scent wash over him. He stayed there for a long time, and Stiles didn’t even seem to mind. He pulled away a little when he thought he had had his fill, feeling warm and content. Stiles looked at him, his brown eyes kind and understanding.

Some unstoppable force took him just then, and Scott leaned forward so he was a breath away from Stiles’ face.

“Scott?” Stiles whispered, and Scott could hear his heartbeat quicken. But Scott couldn’t smell any fear. That’s all his wolf needed, apparently.

Scott pressed his lips against Stiles’, and he felt drunk. Stiles gasped, but he didn’t run away. He held on to Scott tighter and closed his eyes, tentatively kissing back. 

Scott growled then, kissing Stiles harder. He had more experience, but Stiles…well, he was fucking Stiles. The scent was intoxicating, and damn, if Stiles’ lips weren’t just as good. He plunged his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles moaned low in the back of his throat. Scott had never heard something so fucking amazing. He growled again, and trailed his hands down to Stiles’ hips before picking Stiles up under the ass, carrying him and slamming him against the wall that lead to the bedroom. 

Stiles was quick on the uptake. He wrapped his legs around Scott’s waist and Scott groaned the motion stimulated his dick. He took Stiles’ mouth again before moving to his throat, nibbling and sucking his way down to Stiles’ collarbone. 

He gripped Stiles’ ass harder and bit down on Stiles’ flesh. “Oh god, yes,” Stiles gasped above him, twisting his hands in Scott’s hair and grinding his hips down. “Bite me.”

Scott froze. He looked at Stiles, bruises already forming on his neck, his lips red and swollen.

This was bad. His dreams came flooding back, and so did the image of Stiles in the woods, his face contorted in terror as the other wolves held Scott down.

He dropped Stiles and backed away, and Stiles crashed on the floor, landing hard on his ass.

“Scott!” Stiles said, looking up at him in confusion. “What-”

“I’m sorry,” Scott said, frantic. He turned and grabbed the vial off the table, downing it in one go and slamming the vial back on the table. The effect was instantaneous- the scent was gone as soon as he swallowed. But his dick hadn’t gotten the message, but he was still as hard as a rock, and Stiles looked so fucking good, all messy and thoroughly kissed. Maybe the rest of the potion took time to kick in.

“I’m sorry, I- I have to go,” Scott said quickly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He sprinted out the door, leaving Stiles on the floor, his head on his knees and his arms wrapped around himself.

Scott ran all the way to his house, and thought viciously that he deserved the burn that ran through his legs and lungs. He flung open the door to his own house and ran upstairs to his room, past his mother in the kitchen who called out in alarm after him.

He slammed the door to his room shut and gasped for air. Bile rose up in his throat, but he fought it. The last thing he needed to do was puke up the only thing keeping him from being even worse.

He slid down to the floor, breathing heavily. Melissa knocked.

He crawled to his bed and got under the covers, pulling his pillow over his head. He ignored his mother’s knock, but Melissa stuck her head in anyway.

“Scott,” she tried, but Scott waved her away.

“Just…leave me alone, mom, okay?” 

Melissa sighed and closed the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Scott was sitting at the table in the break room at work, his head buried in his arms. 

“Scott? Is that you?” Kira asked, sitting down across from him, her lunch in her hands.

“Yeah,” Scott grunted. He lifted his head and Kira almost fell out of her chair.

“Scott, what happened to you?!” She looked at her watch. “I was on vacation for two weeks, but you look like you’ve aged about ten years!”

Scott rubbed his eyes. “It’s nothing, I feel alright.”

“Yeah right, you look exhausted,” Kira said, concern in her eyes as she finally began to unpack her lunch. 

“I am sort of tired,” Scott admitted. “It’s weird though, I’ve been sleeping more than I ever have in my life.”

“How many hours a night?” Kira asked, taking a bite of her apple.

“About twelve,” Scott said sheepishly. 

“Wow,” Kira said, but her tone wasn’t judgmental. “And your sleep, has it been restful?”

At least half of his sleeping hours were spent tossing and turning, the rest of them caught up in dreams of Stiles, alternatively slamming the door in his face or kissing his face. He also woke up about five times a night, but that was okay, right?

“Yeah,” Scott lied. Kira clearly didn’t buy it, but ate her apple thoughtfully. 

“Why aren’t you eating lunch?” Kira asked. “This is, you know, the lunchroom.”

“Wasn’t really that hungry.”

Kira hummed and opened her yogurt. “So, what did you do while I was away?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Scott answered.

“That being…?”

“Watched TV, helped my mom out a little, nothing too exciting,” Scott said. That was definitely not a lie. His routine had become get up, shower, look at a piece of toast, go to work, come home, do some chores, watch TV, go to bed, and start all over again.

“Seems much more low-key than you’re used to,” Kira commented, scraping the bottom of her yogurt container.

“Yeah, well, I’m a grown-up now, right? Can’t be all fun and games for me.”

“Especially not when you’re depressed,” Kira said casually, finishing her apple.

“What? No, I’m not depressed,” Scott said, looking at Kira with wide eyes.

“Scott, I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and you’ve already shown three symptoms,” Kira replied. “Sleeping more than usual, but still not being rested, change in appetite, loss of interest in usual activities.” 

Scott gaped at her. “It’s just a life adjustment, you know, emerging adulthood and shit.”

“What does Stiles think about it? He’s known you longer than I have,” Kira said, taking a sip of her diet Coke. 

“Stiles?” Scott repeated weakly. It was the first time he had said the name out loud in two weeks.

“Yeah, yay tall, brown hair? Your best bro in the world?” Kira said, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what he thinks,” Scott mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Kira pressed. “He’s got to have noticed the change in you.”

“We…haven’t talked in awhile,” Scott said softly, picking at a chip in the table.

“How long’s awhile?” Kira asked, and if Scott had been paying attention he could hear the gears clicking in her head.

“About two weeks,” Scott said, his voice almost a whisper.

“You haven’t had any contact with Stiles in two whole weeks?” 

“No.”

“No hangouts, no Skype, no texts, nothing?”

“No,” Scott confirmed, his gut twisting. “Nothing.”

Kira sat back in her chair. Scott braced himself for the inevitable “why”, but it didn’t come.

“Scott,” Kira said, and there was no pity in her voice, only kindness. “It’s none of my business what happened- but as your friend, it’s my business to make sure you’re happy. Just…talk to Stiles, okay?”

“I can’t,” Scott said, putting his head in his hands. “I…I fucked up.”

“Real friends are the ones who will forgive even if you do fuck up- even if you fuck up a million times, in a bad way,” Kira said, a small smile curving her lips. “And I think I’ve been around you two long enough to know that Stiles is a real friend. Twenty years of friendship’s gotta count for something, right?”

Kira’s smile got bigger, and Scott couldn’t help but return it, remembering the same words he had said to her on her doorstep. He sobered up when he thought of actually seeing Stiles.

“But…he hasn’t contacted me either. He doesn’t want to talk to me,” Scott said quietly. “I wouldn’t want to talk to me.”

“Sometimes you’ve gotta suck it up and make the first move,” Kira said, patting his hand on the table. She stood up and threw the remnants of her lunch away before putting her hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Sometimes, it’s the only thing you can do.”

***

If Scott hadn’t been a werewolf, he would have had a killer headache by the time he walked through the door to his house. He had been thinking about Kira’s words all day. Could he really make the first move? He had made the first move and made the mistake of kissing Stiles, and look where that had got him. 

He wanted more than anything to talk to Stiles, for things to go back to the way they were before the scent ever happened, when they were just college seniors with the rest of their lives ahead of them. 

His phone was like dead weight in his pocket as he tiredly waved at his mother, who was sitting on the couch folding laundry. She gave him a sad smile and watched him as he went to the kitchen to make himself something for dinner.

Melissa sat down at the kitchen table. “How was work, sweetie?”

“It was okay,” Scott replied. “Kira came back from vacation today.”

“Did she have a good time?”

“I…don’t know,” Scott answered. He hadn’t even asked her about her trip. He really was the shittiest friend in the world. He sighed. At least he could try to be better with his mom.

“How was your date with the sheriff?”

“It was alright,” Melissa said. “Although to be honest, we were a little worried about the fact that we have a more active social life than our 22-year-old sons.”  
Scott watched his pot of canned soup simmer on the stove. Melissa walked to him and turned him to face her.

“We’re really worried, about both of you,” she said quietly. 

“I’m fine, Mom,” Scott said, stirring his soup. “Really.”

“Well, I know for a fact that Stiles isn’t.” Guilt churned in Scott’s gut, but he didn’t respond. “He looks like he’s lost about five pounds in the last two weeks. He didn’t really have much to lose to begin with.”

She pushed a lock of hair behind Scott’s ear. “You’re miserable, honey. And don’t try to tell me you’re not. A mother knows.”

“I’ve just had a couple of bad weeks at work,” Scott said, but without much conviction. 

“Oh? Coincidentally the same two weeks that you haven’t spoken a word to Stiles?” Melissa shook her head. “It’d be a pretty passable excuse if Stiles wasn’t just as miserable.”

“Maybe he’s just stressed,” Scott responded, pouring his soup into a bowl. He didn’t want to think about Stiles miserable. Because if Stiles was miserable, it was his fault.

“Yeah, he is,” Melissa agreed. “Stressed because he thinks his best friend doesn’t want him anymore.”

Scott dropped the spoon in his hand, and it clattered on the floor. He looked at Melissa incredulously. “That’s what he thinks?”

“That’s what the sheriff has gathered from the five words Stiles has spoken to him the past week,” Melissa said. She searched Scott’s eyes. “Is it possible that maybe he’s got the wrong idea?”

“That’s…that’s stupid,” Scott said, more to himself than his mother. “He didn’t do anything. I was the one…” He sat down heavily at the kitchen table. His mother placed his abandoned bowl of soup and a new spoon in front of him before sitting next to him.

“Listen, sweetie. When the sheriff and I started dating, we vowed that we would never interfere in yours and Stiles’ friendship. That’s between the two of you.” Melissa rubbed his back.

“But as your mother, I have a duty to nag you and interfere in your life,” Melissa said with a small smile. “And I’m giving you some motherly advice- talk to Stiles, okay? You have too much to lose.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ve got to go to work.”

Melissa grabbed her bag and opened the front door. “You know I love you, right?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah.”

***

Scott was laying in his bed, the light of the full moon shining through his window. He couldn’t sleep.

His phone was in his hands, Stiles’ number on the screen. 

How could Stiles think he didn’t want him anymore? Scott was the phone who had fucked up, and let everything get the best of him…had pushed things too far. Stiles had only ever helped him, in everything. Stiles and his dumb vial he was so proud of, all the time he kept Scott’s head above water in high school, when he had helped him through his break-up with Allison…  
The clock on his phone flicked to midnight. The rest of the pack would be in the woods by now. He hoped Stiles was there, having a good time. He deserved it. He deserved everything.

He smelled Derek a second before the alpha came through his window. Derek flung the covers off of Scott, and Scott sat up in protest.

“Derek, what the-”

“Get up. You’re coming with me,” Derek growled. 

“Look, Derek, I know it’s the full moon but-”

“Get out of bed, now.” Derek’s eyes flashed red and his incisors were visible. “This is not negotiable.”

“Derek, I’m not fucking going. It’s fine if I miss one full moon, I just can’t…” Scott ran a hand roughly through his hair.

“You can go, and you are. Get up.”

Scott deflated. He was too tired to fight. Too fucking tired.

Scott sat in silence next to Derek in the Camaro. He felt like he was on his way to his own execution.

They pulled into the parking lot. To his confusion, instead of walking towards the woods, Derek stalked up the steps to his apartment. He followed. Maybe he was going to be kicked out of the pack. Maybe this was a tribunal.

“This is an intervention,” Erica said as Derek pushed Scott down into a chair in the living room. Boyd and Erica were on the couch, and a computer was on the coffee table, Allison and Lydia’s faces looking at him with disappointment. Derek sat down at the kitchen table.

Scott looked around again. Stiles wasn’t here. He couldn’t smell him either- it must have been awhile since he had been at the apartment. Scott swallowed roughly.

“A what?”

“An intervention,” Erica repeated. A large book was in her lap, and Scott recognized it as the Bestiary.

“Look, I know I look bad, but I haven’t…started drinking or doing drugs, or anything,” Scott said weakly.

“Obviously not,” Erica said, rolling her eyes. “This is about your addiction to being completely oblivious.”

Scott’s eyes flicked to Allison and Lydia, and they nodded.

“Oblivious,” Erica confirmed. Boyd looked uncomfortable as hell, and Scott could see Derek fidgetting at the table.

“Oblivious of what?”

“Not yet,” Erica said. “First, we have to establish a couple of things. I’m going to ask you a series of questions. If you lie, we’ll know. In fact, if you try to tell anything but the absolute truth, we’ll know. So don’t fucking lie.”

Scott nodded, sliding down in his seat. What the fuck was going on?

“Now, Scott, do you agree that tonight is the full moon?”

“Uh, yeah,” Scott answered.

“And what does this pack typically do on the full moon?”

“We…we go out to the woods and hang out.”

Erica nodded. “Then Scott, tell me, why did Derek have to come get you tonight?”

Scott started to sweat. “Because…I wasn’t planning on going to the woods.”

“And yet you agree that you are a member of this pack?”

“I, I think so,” Scott replied. This was it, it was coming.

Erica rolled her eyes. “You are, Scott. You are a member of this pack. If you weren’t, we wouldn’t give a shit about you and we wouldn’t be having an intervention. Do you understand?”

Scott felt relief rush through him. “Yes.”

“Now tell me Scott, are all of our pack members here tonight?”

Scott looked down at his hands. “No.”

“Who is missing?”

Scott looked away. “Stiles.”

“Why is Stiles missing, Scott?”

Shame rushed through him. “I…I don’t know.”

Erica narrowed her eyes. “That sounded suspiciously like a lie, Scott. Want to try again?”

“Because…because he didn’t want to see me,” Scott said softly.

“Why wouldn’t Stiles want to see you?”

“Because…” Scott turned red, and he felt sick. “I- I can’t”

“Nothing leaves this room, Scott, okay?” Erica leaned forward. “Tell us why you think Stiles doesn’t want to see you.”

“I…I kissed him. The potion was on the table, and I should have had it then. But…but Stiles smelled so good. He said- he said I could get the scent one last time. So we hugged…and then…” Scott blushed even harder, looking down at the ground. He wanted to die.

“Things progressed from there?” Erica supplied.

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed, almost in a whisper.

“Why wouldn’t Stiles want to see you after that?” Erica pressed, leaning forward and putting her chin on her fists.

…Why? That was the most stupid question in the world.

“Because I lost control!” Scott shouted, frustrated. “I forced him. He made that potion for me, and… and I fucked up anyway. Gave in. If he hadn’t…” Scott clenched his fists.

“If he hadn’t what?”

“If he hadn’t…said something, I would have…I would have…” Scott was too disgusted with himself to finish..

“Claimed him?”

Scott nodded and swallowed hard.

“What did he say, Scott?” Erica asked, her gaze unbreakable.

“He, he said…bite me.”

“Like bite him, bite him? Like turn him?”

“No!” Scott said forcefully. “No…I was…sort of biting on his neck a little and kissing him, and he…he said that.” Scott stared down at his hands.

“And that made you stop?”

“Yes,” Scott replied. Allison and Lydia were watching him with rapt attention.

“Why?” 

“Because…because it reminded me of that night in the woods…I could have really hurt him then, and I didn’t want to hurt him, by…biting, or anything else.”

“So, let’s see if I have this right,” Erica began. “You scented Stiles, and if I recall correctly, this incident occurred about two weeks after the full moon, correct?”

Scott nodded.

“In the middle of the scent cycle, you kissed Stiles, and would have claimed him had you not been in fear of hurting him, is that right?”

Scott nodded again.

Erica sat back against the couch and steepled her fingers. “Why did you have Stiles make the potion?”

Scott gaped at her. “So…so I wouldn’t wolf out, like last time! So I wouldn’t be dangerous.”

“So you would say that you learned from the first scenting in March?”

“Of course!” Scott said. “I…I would never let that happen again.”

“Because you would never hurt Stiles?” Erica pressed.

“No! Never! I just…I didn’t realize how bad it would be, that first time,” Scott said. 

“I told you it would be bad,” Derek said under his breath, and Erica shot the alpha a dirty look.  
“It was our fault for not taking more steps to help you, Scott. You shouldn’t have had to go through what you did in April,” Erica said, her eyes genuine. “Stiles has moved on, and so should you.”

Erica took a sip of her drink. “So you went into the kissing incident with some hefty werewolf experience under your belt, intent not to hurt Stiles. Would it be fair to say, Scott, that if you stopped when Stiles was encouraging you, that you would have definitely stopped if he had told you to?”

“I…I don’t know,” Scott replied, confused.

“Tell me, Scott, when you were with Stiles while you were scenting him- and I’m talking the entirety of the past month- did the scent ever make Stiles do anything against his will?”

“I don’t think so,” Scott answered. Fear gripped him. Had it? “But…maybe, even though he can’t smell like us, I…I somehow did something…”

“You didn’t,” Boyd said, speaking for the first time.

Erica nodded. “As a bona fide werewolf who has been scented, I can tell you that I did nothing against my will. And I’ve known humans who were the same way. Because it’s impossible. And if you’d bothered to read the Bestiary, you would’ve known that.”

Erica cleared her throat and opened the tome. “Page 439, and I quote, ‘Werewolves will only scent mates who are willing, with clarity of mind and complete control of their own faculties, to be claimed. In the history of the species, there has been no record of a forced claiming.’”

Scott’s head was spinning. “But…but if you guys hadn’t stopped me in the woods…”

“It would have been forced because Stiles had no idea what was going on and couldn’t give consent,” Erica explained. “But you wouldn’t have scented Stiles in the first place if he hadn’t been willing.”

Scott struggled to speak, this revelation fucking with his mind on an entirely new level. “Well…I mean, Stiles would do a lot for me, if I would be hurt otherwise, he would probably be willing-”

“He loves you, you moron!” Lydia screamed, her voice blaring from the computer’s speakers. Erica rolled her eyes.

“So much for the slow reveal,” the she-wolf muttered under her breath.

Scott stared at the screen. Shock and something akin to elation ran through him, and he…he just didn’t fucking understand.

“And before you say it, no, he doesn’t love you like a fucking bro. He loves you, as in, HE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU.” Lydia huffed and continued.

“Let me do this real quick, since it’s 3:45 in the morning our time and my patience is running thin. Did you ever wonder why Stiles never dated much at school, Scott? Why nothing ever panned out? Because he loves you.”

Scott thought of his conversation with Kira on his doorstep. Had…had she thought…?

“Did you ever wonder why he texted you so much, or answered every single one of yours when you were going crazy or were sad or stressed out? Because he loves you. Did you ever wonder why Stiles has gone way beyond the call of best friendship to help you in any way he could? Because- he- loves you.”

Scott stared at the screen. He didn’t know what to say, or do, or how he felt or what was fucking up or down.

Lydia calmed down a bit as Allison took a freaked out Hyacinth from her. “Besides the fact that he’s a little kinky, did you ever wonder why Stiles only said ‘bite me’ when you were hot and heavy? Because not only does he love you, he wants you.” The redhead put a strong emphasis on the “wants.”

Erica nodded and chimed in. “Did you ever consider another explanation as to why Stiles hasn’t contacted you this week?”

“My mom…my mom said that he told the sheriff that he thought I didn’t want him anymore,” Scott said quietly.

“Hmm, and why would he think that, Scott?” Lydia asked, her voice sarcastic. “Maybe because when he kissed you back, you dumped him on the floor and ran away? Or because you didn’t contact him for two weeks, not even as a friend? And the ironic thing about this whole thing, Scott, is that Stiles thinks he took advantage of you, of you and the scent.”

Lydia shook her head. “Here you both are, sitting in needless guilt, when you’re just a well-intentioned guy who got a little carried away and Stiles is a well- intentioned guy who jumped on the chance to kiss the love of his life.”

Scott could barely speak. “But…but Stiles never showed any interest…like that, for…for any guy…”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Don’t do the ‘I’m not gay, he’s not gay’ dance with me, McCall. It doesn’t matter if he is, or isn’t, or if you are, or aren’t. What matters is that he loves you, and wants you, Scott McCall- not Scott McCall the dude, or Scott McCall the werewolf. Just you.”

“And of course he wouldn’t show interest like that, Scott. Not only did he not know how you felt, he didn’t want you to have the big gay crisis like you’re currently having,” Erica piped up.

Scott tugged his hair in frustration. “Well, maybe Stiles did…have feelings for me, but I just- I never thought about Stiles like that before the scent. Anything I feel, it’s not fucking real.”

Erica opened the Bestiary again and read. “Scenting is a powerful component of the werewolf’s repertoire, and will urge the werewolf to protect and touch its scented mate. However, a werewolf who is scenting will not be compelled to scent a mate for whom the werewolf does not already have some attraction. The author of this compendium begs the reader to remember: scenting does not create attraction. It only brings it to the wolf‘s attention, if it has not been brought already.”

Scott looked dumbstruck at the book. Erica raised an eyebrow. “Did you ever think about Stiles in a claiming sort of way after the scent went away the last time?”

It was a moment before Scott spoke. “I…I had dreams, about him. And, we were wrestling one time, and…” Scott blushed and Erica nodded.

“But that was just the memory of the scent, and…left-overs,” Scott protested weakly. Erica read from the Bestiary again.

“Just as scenting does not create attraction, it does not leave a residue in the wolf’s system. Once the scent has passed, either through claiming, use of the potion and/or the completion of the next moon cycle, the wolf will not feel the need to protect or touch. Any remaining desire to do so, whether manifested in conscious thought or sleep, is due to the wolf’s inherent attraction to its mate.” Erica closed the book with a flourish.

Scott’s world- and his worldview- was crumbling. Stiles…loved him? He was attracted to Stiles? He put his head in his hands.

“I know this is a lot to take in, Scott,” Erica said. Scott looked up and found Erica and the rest of the pack looking at him with compassion. “We’re a pack, and we take care of each other. We weren’t going to let two of our own suffer when they didn’t have to.”

Scott nodded. “Yeah…yeah, I know. It’s just…all sort of hard to believe. It’s sort of weird to have a book tell you that you’re attracted to someone.”

Erica smiled. “If it’s any consolation, we all knew that you loved him way before this all happened.”

“What?!” Scott cried.

“Yep,” Allison confirmed. “I think your mom and the sheriff knew too.”

Scott sat back in his chair, accepting this new blow. Scott flashed back to the time in the sheriff’s kitchen and the story he had told about going to see Stiles’ mom at college, and his last words- “it will get better.” Had the sheriff really known something? His- his mom? 

A thought popped into Scott’s head that trumped all the others.

“But…Stiles read the Bestiary. He said he read the entire part about scenting, before he focused on making the potion. Why…why wouldn’t he have told me this other stuff?”

“For the same reason he wanted you to take the potion instead of letting the scent run its course- he didn’t want to shock your system, Scott. Once Stiles knew that you had some attraction for him, he wanted to take things slow. He’s a romantic at heart,” Erica said. She smiled at him.

“Well, that was a lovely intervention, but I think it’s time for us to go to bed,” Lydia declared. “Make things right, Scott.” Skype ended with a beep.

Erica put the Bestiary on the coffee table and stood up, stretching. “Since we’ve already broken with full moon tradition, I’m gonna steam roll ahead. You wanna go home, big guy?” 

Boyd nodded, looking relieved that the event was over. “Absolutely.”

Soon it was just Derek at the kitchen table and Scott in his chair, processing everything that had just happened. 

Derek cleared his throat and Scott looked over. With Derek’s tact, he would probably kick Scott out in the midst of possibly one of the momentous nights of Scott’s life.

Derek surprised Scott.

“I scented a human male once,” Derek said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair before finally standing up. “It wasn’t the end of the world.”

It was about as much comfort as Derek could manage, and Scott would have laughed if he could have done anything else but sit and stew in his thoughts.

“The sheets are clean on the spare beds,” Derek said before heading to his room and closing the door.

Scott finally fell asleep at 4am. He dreamed of Stiles.

***  
Scott woke up at noon, feeling rested for the first time in weeks.

He didn’t just feel rested, though. He felt content, at peace. The effects of last month’s scent would be gone, and Scott could start fresh. If he scented Stiles again, well…they would deal with it if they had to.

Scott showered, shaved, and pulled on some clothes he had left in the spare bedroom during the last full moon. He looked at himself in the bedroom mirror- he still looked like crap, but he looked better. He ran his finger through his hair, attempting to make it stay in some acceptable position. It definitely wasn’t because he was going to see Stiles. Not at all.

Scott had decided last night that he would see Stiles first thing. Kira had told him to make the first move, right? Well he was going to. And he would be prepared.

Derek wasn’t home when he finally padded out of the bedroom, so he made himself a cup of coffee and waited. As soon as Derek arrived, sweaty from a run, he begged him to drive him to Stiles’. They had always take the day off from work after a full moon, and if he was lucky, Stiles would be home. Hopefully, not as miserable as his mother had intimated.

They were almost to the Stilinski residence when they passed Frank’s, a burger stand that Scott and Stiles had patronized ever since they could remember. He made Derek stop, ignoring the alpha’s eye roll.

Five minutes later he climbed back into the car, a bag of steaming hot curly fries in his hand. Derek raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s totally romantic,” Scott protested. Derek smirked.

Scott waved to Derek as the Camaro sped away, and he took a deep breath as he climbed the stairs to the Stilinskis’ front door. He glanced at the driveway- it looked like father and son were both home.

He knocked three times, his heart beating fast. 

The sheriff opened the door. If he was surprised to see Scott, he didn’t show it. His eyes flicked to the bag in Scott’s hand.

“Are those for the guy I think they’re for?” The sheriff looked at Scott and tsked. “About time.”

“Yeah,” Scott said sheepishly, blushing a little. “They’re…a peace offering, I guess?”

“Stiles never liked flowers much anyways,” the sheriff said, his lips quirking upward. “He’s in his room. Go on up.”

Scott had gone up the stairs to Stiles’ room a million times, but he felt like he was in the house for the first time.

The door to Stiles’ room was closed, and Scott stood in front of it, leaning his head against it.

He could smell Stiles, and dirty laundry, and flat diet Coke, and sadness too. What he didn’t smell was the scent. His knees weakened a little in relief.

Scott stood up straight, squared his shoulders, and opened the door.

Stiles was asleep, still in his pajamas. He was clutching one of his pillows to his chest, breath deep and even in sleep.

His hair was mussed, and his lips were parted, a little shiny with drool. He did look thinner, and his gut twisted. He shook himself. It was time to move on, right? Time to make things right.

He sat down on Stiles’ bed and watched him sleep. Scott grinned when Stiles snuffled- Stiles was sort of the most adorable thing ever. That thought made Scott nervous, and a tiny bit confused. But the Bestiary had never lied before, and if he was honest, he didn’t mind the sight of Stiles’ ass sticking up a bit in the position he was in. 

Scott took a gentle hold of Stiles’ calf and shook. It took several tries before Stiles’ eyes finally blinked open, their deep brown color reflecting the light coming through the window.

His eyes widened when he saw it was Scott, but he didn’t freak out. He slowly sat up, swiping a hand across his lips to remove the drool. 

They stared at each other for a long time.

“Curly fries?” Stiles said, his voice still rough with sleep. 

“Yeah,” Scott said, proffering the bag. 

Stiles took it and sniffed. “Frank’s?” he asked, and Scott saw a touch of a smile.

“Can’t get anything past you,” Scott replied

“I’m sort of a connoisseur,” Stiles said, and they both grinned. Scott felt actual fucking butterflies in his stomach.

“I…I guess you won’t be surprised to know that I didn’t just come to bring you curly fries,” Scott said quietly, picking at a thread in Stiles’ sheets.

“Lydia called me this morning,” Stiles said, and he started to blush. “She said that…that you knew now. About everything.”

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed, and they both looked down at their hands. 

Stiles cleared his throat. “So…is this my last meal?” He nodded towards the bag of fries.

Scott rolled his eyes. “No, Stiles. I’m not going to kill you.”

“Duh,” Stiles said, and he smiled a little before sobering. “I meant…is this my last meal before you freak-out and run away? My last meal as official best bro?”

“Yeah,” Scott said, and panic flashed through Stiles’ eyes. “But it’s your first meal as my official…mate.”

Stiles was touched for exactly two seconds before he burst out laughing. It was such a gorgeous sound that Scott couldn’t help himself but join in.

“That was really lame, man,” Stiles said, wiping his eyes. “You seriously need to work on your lines.”

“You’re probably right,” Scott agreed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Besides,” Stiles said, finally digging into his bag of fries. “I never agreed to be your mate.”

“I never agreed to scenting you and wanting you to be my mate,” Scott shot back, smiling.

Stiles chewed thoughtfully. “Valid point.” He set down the bag. “Do you smell me now?”  
“I always smell you.”

“No, jerk. I mean the scent.” Stiles bit his lip.

“Nope,” Scott said. “Not a trace.”

Stiles searched Scott’s eyes. “You’re telling the truth?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Scott said firmly.

“And…and you’re still here,” Stiles said softly, more to himself than Scott.

“Clearly,” Scott said, sort of amazed at how Stiles could have believed he would ever stop being his friend. He had a sudden urge then to touch Stiles, but he reigned it in. 

“So you don’t think I’m a big gross weirdo?” Stiles’ smile couldn’t hide the insecurity in his voice.

“Only because you’ve already eaten half that bag of fries,” Scott replied. “Not…because of…the other stuff.” He blushed. 

“Fair enough,” Stiles said.

Scott took a breath. “But…I really want us to back to normal first, you know? Our normal. Before…before anything new.” 

“I can handle that,” Stiles said. He looked as relieved as Scott felt. And pretty happy, too.

Stiles yawned then, big and wide. “Well, this feelings stuff really take a lot out of a guy,” he said. “I think a second nap is in order.”

Scott grinned. “Alright.” He stood up to leave, but Stiles grabbed his wrist.

“Wait,” Stiles said quickly. “You…you can stay, if you want.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the only one who needs to work on their lines.”

Stiles blushed. “Shut up.” He looked up at Scott, and Scott…well, Scott thought he looked pretty beautiful.

Scott sat back down on the bed and pushed Stiles over, pulling the sheet up over them. They were asleep in minutes, back to back, as they had done for more nights than Scott could count.

The sheriff poked his head in the door an hour later. He smiled, shut the door, and went to call his girlfriend.

***

Scott didn’t scent Stiles for five full moons. He was glad. It made their return to their normal much easier. And the new stuff a hell of a lot more easy than that.

They kissed in November. They were in the kitchen of their new apartment, eating celebratory move-in day/housewarming curly fries. 

“You’ve got some ketchup on your mouth,” Scott said to Stiles as they leaned against the counter. He pulled Stiles close and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist. He kissed the corner of Stiles’ mouth, getting the ketchup, before kissing Stiles properly.  
Stiles put his arms around Scott’s neck. Confident that Scott wouldn’t run away, he kissed back with intensity, and when they parted, they were breathing heavily. Scott bumped his forehead against Stiles and smiled. They stood like that for awhile, just enjoying the closeness.

Then Scott trailed his hands down Stiles waist and gave his ass a healthy squeeze.

Stiles groaned. “Way to ruin the moment, workface,” Stiles said, but he was pleased. 

They kissed a lot after that.

***

On the sixth full moon, Scott scented Stiles again. They were in one of the spare beds in Derek’s apartment, and Stiles was in Scott’s arms. Stiles had a weird aversion to the word “spooning”, but not to the actual act itself. Stiles’ ass was pressed against Scott’s crotch, and Scott was rubbing his thumb across Stiles’ hip while pressing open-mouthed kisses on Stiles’ neck.

“Don’t get too handsy,” Stiles said roughly, finally waking up under Scott’s ministrations. “Derek will smell your boner.”

“Just mine?” Scott teased, cupping Stiles’ hardening dick through his boxers.

Stiles grumbled but didn’t respond, moving his hips slightly to get more friction.

“Besides,” Scott whispered in Stiles’ ear, nibbling on it until Stiles whined, pushing back into Scott’s chest, “I don’t really care if he does.”

“Me neither,” Stiles breathed, rolling over on his back and pulling Scott on top of him. Scott straddled Stiles’ thighs and pulled his own shirt off before helping Stiles with his. He held himself up over Stiles, Stiles’ hands on his back and his mouth back on Stiles’ neck. He grinded his dick against Stiles’ and they both gasped.

“You smell so fucking good,” Scott growled. He felt Stiles stiffen under him as moved to suck on a hard nipple.

“You’re scenting me?” Stiles asked, arching up when Scott bit down on the nub. Scott soothed it with his tongue before moving back up to Stiles’ neck.

“Mmhmm.” Scott pressed himself against Stiles, rolling his hips. He swallowed Stiles’ moan with a kiss.

“And I thought this time,” Scott began, kissing Stiles neck, then his chest, “-that we could take care of it the old-fashioned way.”

“Thank fucking God,” Stiles sighed. 

“I thought you’d approve,” Scott said, grinning as he kissed his way down Stiles’ abdomen before tugging down a pair of Playboy boxers. He threw them across the room and returned to his task, placing a chaste kiss on Stiles’ cock and balls before getting out of bed to remove his own boxers.

Stiles was panting on the bed, his dick red and dripping with precome. Scott’s swung between his legs as he winked and walked to the bathroom. He dug through the sink drawer until he found something suitable for his purposes.

He knew he was acting cocky, but he was actually fucking nervous. He and Stiles had done everything but this…and it was completely new for both of them.  
At least, that’s what he thought, until he returned to the bed and saw Stiles’ hand, slicked with spit, circling the outside of his hole.

Scott’s mouth fell open at the sight. The visual, combined with the scent, made his dick twitch so fiercely that he was afraid he would actually come.

“Jesus, Stiles,” Scott breathed.

“Come here before I start with you,” Stiles teased, spreading his legs a little wider.

Scott groaned and pounced on the bed, climbing up Stiles until he could kiss him, sucking on his tongue and making Stiles squirm beneath him.

“You know, I had a dream we did it in this room,” Scott said roughly, opening up a bottle of lube and generously coating his fingers.

“Yeah?” Stiles breathed, groaning as Scott stroked his dick before moving to gently rub Stiles’ entrance.

“You told me to bite you,” Scott said, pressing a bit more firmly on Stiles’ hole. Stiles fisted the sheets, licking his lips before responding.

“Maybe you’re-ah!” He gasped as Scott pushed one finger inside, working it in and out gently until Stiles was eager to accept more. 

“Maybe I’m what?” Scott asked, pushing another finger in. Stiles didn’t answer for several moments, his moans puncturing the silence as he rolled his hips, trying to get more stimulation, trying to go deeper.

“Maybe- you’re…clairvoyant or something,” Stiles said, his breathing ragged. “But I promise, I- ah!- won’t say it ever again.”

“Good,” Scott growled before pushing a third finger in. For their first time, they were doing pretty fucking well. Scott was getting the hang of this whole dick business, and Stiles had clearly been having some practice sessions in the shower, if his current ability to take Scott’s fingers was any indication.

Stiles looked wrecked, fucking himself back on Scott’s fingers, his dick rubbing against his stomach as he writhed. Scott’s hand flew to his dick at the sight, and he gave himself a few rough strokes. They spoke again at the same time.

“I’m ready-”

“Can’t wait-”

Scott chuckled. He guessed the scent was pretty legit- they were compatible in bed.

Scott poured some more lube in his hand and got his dick ready. Stiles looked absolutely gorgeous, lips red and swollen, his eyes lidded. 

Scott leaned over Stiles, kissing him gently. He pulled Stiles’ ass down the bed, the back of Stiles’ thighs bumping into the front of his. Stiles wrapped his legs around Scott’s waist.

Scott looked at Stiles, searching his eyes for clues. All he saw was arousal and affection. He wanted this. 

Stiles pulled Scott against him and whispered in his ear. “I know the first time is supposed to be about flowers and candles and shit, but I don’t need a poem. Just do it.”

Scott guided his dick to Stiles’ hole and pushed in slowly. He took direction well.

Stiles’ mouth opened in a big O and his eyes fluttered shut. Scott might have cried a little. Being inside a mate you’re scenting? Yeah, definitely all it was cracked up to be.

Scott struggled to push in slowly, giving Stiles time to get used to the feeling. When he was balls deep, he stilled, kissing Stiles fiercely. 

The past few months had been amazing, getting back to themselves, and throwing in a healthy mixture of physical contact. It hadn’t been until a few weeks ago that Scott’s stomach had started to flutter when Stiles came home from work, or when he got a text from him at the clinic. Scott sort of really liked Stiles. A lot.

Scott started to move slowly, picking up the pace when Stiles’ moans and gasps made it clear that he needed more. Scott could feel Stiles’ dick against his stomach, and all he wanted in the world was to make Stiles come, make Stiles feel good.

Stiles was babbling, clutching Scott’s back as Scott rode him harder. Scott shifted position a little and thrusted, and Stiles yelled out.

Scott made use of the discovery of the sweet spot efficiently. He hit the spot again, and again, and fuck, he felt like he was flying. This had to have been the best sex anyone had ever had, ever. And maybe there weren’t flowers or candles or an orchestra playing the background, but it was pretty damn meaningful, because he was with Stiles.

“I’m gonna come,” Stiles breathed, and Scott kissed him. Between the friction on his dick and Scott’s cock in his ass, Stiles didn’t have a chance. Stiles held on tighter and Scott went faster, and Scott could feel Stiles’ muscles clench around him as Stiles dug his fingernails into Scott’s back, throwing his head back and shouting as he came between them.

The scent had never been so powerful. Scott’s eyes flashed and he roared, slamming into Stiles twice more before coming inside his mate.

The scent disappeared as soon as he came. He collapsed on top of Stiles, and Stiles squeezed him tight, and there was literally no space between them. Only a bit of come and whole lot of love.


End file.
